Our Time
by revivalofawriter
Summary: AU. Mr. Wade and Mr. De la Rosa are inventors and business partners who end up in some trouble. In order to protect their families, they must split everyone into pairs and send them to remote locations. Unfortunately for Dez, he gets paired with Trish De la Rosa, a popular senior who hates his guts. How will they manage being stuck together?
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own Austin and Ally. **

A gentle Miami breeze made the blue and orange polka dotted curtains dance against the window frame. The sun's bright rays poured into the teenager's room.

"Dez!"

The redhead tumbled to the clothes-littered floor when the shout from downstairs reached him in his slumber.

"Dez Wade! Breakfast!"

Dez groaned in response, "It is summer." He peeled a sock off his face and used it to wipe the drool off his chin. He reached for the camcorder that was charging on the floor beside him and flipped the screen open. "And it's before noon!"

"I'm giving your breakfast to the dog!"

Dez pushed himself off the floor. "No! I'm getting dresses!" He grabbed the first shirt and pair of pants he could find and clumsily put them on. "I mean dressed!" He picked up his camera then glanced around the room. "Where is my backpack?"

The dog's bark echoed downstairs.

"Don't give the dog my breakfast! He isn't even smart enough to text like those dogs on the internet!" Dez ran out of the room and towards the staircase. He jumped over the first three steps, but tripped and rolled down the rest of the way.

"Stuck the landing," Dez groaned. At the base, the dog leaped over the teen. Dez sniffed the scent of bacon as it faded out the door.

"I warned you, Sonny. How about some cereal?" Mr. Wade chuckled and shut the door after the dog ran out. He reached a hand out to Dez and helped him up.

"Aw, man. Did Mom cook all the bacon already? Is she still here?" Dez didn't wait for his dad to answer, but shrugged and said, "I'm sure Didi didn't finish all of her breakfast. I'll just sneak some of hers."

"Didi ate all of her breakfast; she didn't have to be forced to wake up. Besides, she and your mom are already gone."

Dez rolled his eyes. "Of course your favorite was up at the clack of dawn, reading books and doing whatever Didis do."

"It's 'crack of dawn' and don't be silly. Didi isn't my favorite, Mom is; she makes pies." Mr. Wade rubbed his stomach and walked into the kitchen with Dez.

Dez opened the pantry and took out a box of cereal while he opened the fridge with one of his long legs. He shifted over to the fridge and grabbed the milk. He used one hand to hold his camera and the other to balance the cereal box on the milk jug as he carried it to the kitchen table. The sunshine beaming in through the window behind the table made the sunflowers in the centerpiece perk up.

Mr. Wade grabbed a bowl from the top of the cabinet. "Didi may get her love of knowledge from me, but you're the lucky one," said Mr. Wade as he took a spoon from a drawer. "You got my fashion sense."

He waved the bowl over his long multicolored tie and checker-patterned lab coat. The lab coat matched the pattern on Dez's own pants. He handed Dez the kitchenware and smiled.

"We are the snazzy dressers," Dez agreed. "Poor Mom and Didi. Where are they anyway?"

Mr. Wade looked at his wrist watch and frowned.

"Um, I need to go down to the lab. Hurry and eat your cereal. Don't mess around, Dez."

Mr. Wade ran to the gray door on the other side of the kitchen.

"Weird alert," Dez sang to himself. He listened to the familiar sound of the lab code being punched in and the mechanical lock clicking. "He spends so much time locked in that stupid basement and he never lets anyone else go in." Dez looked out the window and stared at the large house across the street. A large man came out of the door of the house and got into a car. "Except for him."

Dez peered at the car as it sped down the street. "That isn't even his car. He's rich, but he's driven the same clunky car for as long as I've been alive."

"Did you finish your cereal," Mr. Wade asked.

Dez jumped in his seat.

"Ah! I mean, uh," Dez looked at the soggy cereal, "No. I guess I was distracted."

Mr. Wade tugged on his tie. "Oh Dez, I wish you would have finished your breakfast. I don't want you to be hungry."

Dez raised his brow. "We have more cereal. Are you feeling okay, Dad? I mean, it's just breakfast."

"Right, right. Here." Mr. Wade lifted a small brown package in his hand. "I need you to take this to our neighbors."

"The Ramones?"

"No. The Del la Rosas."

Dez threw his head back and flung his arms. "Ugh! Come on, Dad. You know I don't like going over there. Can't you go? I'll go find the dog."

Mr. Wade shook his head. He put his hand on Dez's shoulder and pushed the package towards him. "The dog will be fine. You know he likes to run down the street to that poodle's house."

"Even the dog is better than me with girls."

Mr. Wade left the room and came back with a backpack. He slid the straps onto Dez's back. "I, uh, found your backpack. It should have the things you need," said Mr. Wade.

Dez stood up and picked up the package and his camera. "Yeah, I keep my rubber chicken in there. And my ham." He bounced to make the backpack move. "That ham is heavier than I remember."

Mr. Wade walked to the front door with Dez. "I'll be in the lab. Be careful." Mr. Wade wrapped his arms around his son and gave him a tight hug. He let go and took a step back.

"Are you sure you're okay, Dad? If the girl answers the door, then yeah, I'll need the emotional support hug. But the rest of the family is cool."

Mr. Wade ruffled Dez's hair and gently squeezed his shoulder. "You two will be fine," Mr. Wade said softly before clearing his throat. "Get along with her." Mr. Wade gave Dez a smile and then ran towards his lab.

Dez left the house and jogged across the large lawn and thin stretch of road. He turned on his camera when he reached the driveway and filmed the lush rose bushes that lined the smooth cream-colored path. "Casa De la Rosa. Home to the most mysterious creature at Marino High School." He filmed the cream and gray speckled steps as he climbed to the porch. "How does one 'get along with' someone who hates them," said Dez before he was interrupted by a growl.

He pointed the camera up and saw a young woman with dark curls that flowed over her tan shoulders and settled on her crossed arms. Her floral print sneakers tapped against the porch, making her floral print dress bounce against her knee-length leggings.

"Get off my property, Freckles. We don't deal with freaks here," snarled Trish De la Rosa.

"Hello, Trish," Dez replied as he turned off his camera. He shoved it in his backpack without looking.

"Still weird as ever, carrying that camera around and talking to yourself," said Trish. "No wonder you don't have any friends."

"You think being popular is the same as having friends? Don't you watch public service announcements? What you have at Marino High is not friendship. You know, half terrifying people, half bossing people around and half buying your friends."

Trish rolled her eyes and took a step forward. "You can't have three halves. Please go be stupid somewhere else."

Dez ignored the comment and handed Trish the brown package. "Here. My dad wanted me to bring this over."

"That's all I have to do for you to leave?" Trish gripped the package. "Gladly. See you never." Trish stepped back and shut the door halfway. Dez turned to leave, but Trish walked back out the door. "Freckles, wait!"

Dez faced her and asked, "Yeah?"

Trish eyed the package in her hand then looked at Dez. "What is it?"

Dez shrugged and took a step forward. "I don't know. But I can bet it's for your dad. Mr. De la Rosa is the only person my dad lets into his lab."

"We'll, duh. They are business partners. It must have something to do with one of their inventions," said Trish as she shuffled the box in her hands.

Dez smiled and raised his hand for a high five. "Look you solved your own mystery!"

Trish feigned a smile and pushed his hand away. "And you were useless, as usual."

Dez frowned and backed away. "I'd say see you tomorrow, but I'm sure you will continue your trend of staying home when Mr. and Mrs. De la Rosa and JJ come over for dinner on Friday nights." Dez took a step down the porch.

Trish lowered her brow. "Wait. Are you actually there for those things?"

"Those dinners are fun," Dez argued.

"I didn't think your social life was that awful," Trish laughed.

Dez opened and closed his mouth. Trish let out a few more chuckles before her gaze shifted from Dez to the street.

"Weird van," Trish murmured.

Dez looked over his shoulder and saw a black van. The van moved slowly down the empty street. Dez and Trish climbed to the bottom of the stairs and watched as the van stopped in front of the Wades' house.

Trish looked up at Dez. "Well, I can guess you aren't expecting company. So it must be for your mom or Didi?"

Dez kept his eyes fixed on the van. "They aren't home."

"Okay. So then it's for your dad," Trish said in an annoyed tone.

The two watched as a man jumped out of the parked van. He wore a black spandex suit that stretched over his bulky muscles. The man slung a large metallic device over his shoulder and pointed it above the Wades' house as he squatted on the lawn and dug his heels into the soft ground.

"Hey! What are you doing," Dez shouted as he ran to the middle of Trish's lawn. Trish jogged behind him with the brown package in her hand.

The hulking man hit his fist on the side of the device.

Dez stood in the center of the De la Rosa lawn as a silver missile shot into the air. He squinted when the sun glinted off the metal before the missile dove toward his home. The missile tore a hole through the center of the roof and within seconds the entire structure was engulfed in flames.

"Dad!" Dez screamed as he moved to run forward, but Trish tugged him backward by his backpack, causing him to fall. "Dad! No," Dez continued to scream.

Trish's eyes followed the shooter as he jumped back into the van before it sped up the street. She gasped when she saw the van stop a few houses down.

"Dez," she whispered. The boy didn't respond, but continued to sob as he tried to stand back up. The black van spun around and zoomed toward Trish's house.

"Get up! Get up," she shouted as she yanked Dez off the ground with one hand and gripped the brown package with the other. She pulled Dez toward her backyard as the van cut across her lawn. She shoved the gate open and ran with Dez past the large swimming pool.

On the other side of the backyard was a fence with hole near the bottom of a rose bush. "We're crawling through that hole," she yelled.

She let go of his arm and clambered through the hole as the van sped through her backyard. Dez hit the ground and crawled through the opening. He barely made it out before Trish grabbed his arm and tugged him forward. "Come on! This garden leads to that big oak in the Stars' yard."

Dez ran behind Trish, knocking vines and plants out of his way as they went.

"Where are we going," Dez panted. He knocked a branch out of his way and saw a grand oak tree.

Trish pointed up the oak. "Climb!" She hopped onto wooden foot handles and pulled her way up.

Dez heard the van screeching as it destroyed the yard on the other side of the garden. He grabbed a foot handle and climbed the tree. He pressed himself onto the ledge of the treehouse at the top of the oak and saw Trish take a key from under a floor board. She opened the treehouse door and pulled him inside.

"Kira used to play up here all the time, so her father had a slide built in that leads to her bedroom." She pointed towards a pink square on the floor at the far side of the treehouse.

Trish used the key to open the pink floor door.

"Jump!"

Her mass of curls bounced before she disappeared. Dez plugged his nose before hopping into the opening. Trish landed on her feet at the bottom of the slide, but Dez landed face first on the floor.

"We don't have time for you to be a loser! Get yourself together," shouted Trish.

"But we have time for you to be mean?"

"I can do what," Trish was interrupted by glass shattering outside the house.

"Ah!" Dez grabbed Trish's shoulders, making her drop the brown package.

Gun shots fired outside.

"Ah!" Trish hugged Dez's waist with her arms locked beneath his backpack.

"Oh no, you're hugging me. Now I know we're going to die," Dez whispered.

Trish pushed him away and unlocked the door to Kira's room. She picked up the package and shoved it inside of Dez's backpack.

"We need to get my car from her garage," she said.

She grabbed a set of animal print keys from Kira's dresser. "I let her borrow it two days ago, but she went on vacation with her fam without returning it to me. Flake."

Dez followed behind Trish as she ran out of the room. "I thought you reserved name calling for us lowly non-popular folk?"

"Did you not hear me? She didn't return my car! I love my Porsche! Just because her daddy refuses to buy her another new car doesn't mean I should suffer," argued Trish.

Shots fired through the windows of the mansion. Trish ducked and pulled Dez to the ground. They crawled through the dining room and to the door that led to the garage. They ran into the garage and got inside the bright red car.

Once they were inside, Trish locked the doors, and they snapped on their seatbelts. Trish nodded as she looked around the garage from the driver's seat.

"We made it," she smiled. She stopped nodding and the smile fell from her lips. "How are we going to get out? That door opens super slow! They will know we're coming! What are we going to do?"

"It was your idea to get the car, Trish!"

"We'll excuse me Freckles! I didn't realize we were track stars and could just out run the bad guys!"

They shook in their seats when they heard more gunshots.

"Freckles! For once in your life, think!"

Dez glanced at the garage door and then at Trish. "Turn the car on," he said calmly.

Trish turned on the car, but looked confused. "What now?"

Dez put the car in drive and said, "It's a good thing you already don't like me."

"Huh?"

Dez punched Trish in the leg. She screamed and instinctively stomped on the gas pedal. The car zoomed forward and crashed through the garage door, sending the door flying off its hinges. Trish grabbed the steering wheel and spun the car around. She hit the brakes.

"Are you crazy! Don't you know better than to hit a girl! I'm going to kill you and then I'm going to kill you again for scratching up my car!"

Dez gulped as the black van turned onto the empty street in front of them. "I knew you wouldn't crash your car willingly! I'm sorry!"

"So you punch me!"

"I could have tickled you!"

A bullet crashed into the windshield, causing fractures to form a star design.

Trish shifted the gear to reverse and looked over her shoulder. She hit the gas and the car sped backwards. "You are so lucky I asked for reinforced shatterproof glass windshields! Touch me or my car again and I'll be the one shooting at you!"

"That's such a weird request for a car! What kind of friends do you have?"

Trish jerked the steering wheel so that the car spun 180 degrees. She sped backwards past the black van before hitting the breaks, shifting gears and making a sharp right turn. She drove forward down another residential street.

"And what do you guys do? Go drifting on the weekends," Dez yelped.

The van turned and followed behind the Porsche. Trish cut through a few yards and then crashed through a fence that separated the residential area from the highway. She merged into traffic as the van followed.

"My poor baby. I've hurt you so much today," Trish cooed at the steering wheel.

Dez looked over his shoulder and saw the black van. "They're right behind us!"

The red car zipped between cars speeding on the highway. The van tried to keep up, but when Trish rounded a lumber truck, the van cut to close to the truck and hit it. Large tree logs crashed into the black van and blocked the other traffic.

Trish saw men jump out of the van before more logs blocked her view in the rear mirror. She took the next exit and slowed down to normal speed. After a few minutes, she pulled over at a gas station and parked in the back.

"What just happened," Trish murmured.

"Dad," Dez whispered in a hoarse voice.

Trish looked over at the boy beside her. Tears started to pour out of his blue eyes. He bit his lip then covered his face in his hands. "Dad."

His body shook while he sobbed freely. Trish bit her lip until it reddened to fight back her own tears. She reached her hand out towards him, but her fingers trembled as her hand hovered above his shoulder. She pulled her hand back and rested it in her lap.

Dez wiped his nose with his sleeve and straightened his hunched shoulders. He blinked away a few more tears. "Um, they did a lot of shooting. Was anyone at your house?"

Trish shook her head. "Mom, Dad and JJ were all gone when I came downstairs. I wake up late in the summer," she said in a hoarse voice. She cleared her throat again. "I got dressed, came downstairs and realized everybody was gone. I looked out the window, in case anyone was outside, but I just saw you coming up the driveway with your camera and that brown package."

Dez wiped his face again. He looked at Trish. "Wait, package?"

"Yeah, the one you gave me from your," Trish paused. "Um, your," she blinked away a few tears, "that package."

Dez unsnapped his seatbelt and flung off his backpack. He took out the package and lifted it up.

"He was acting weird this morning when he gave me this. Maybe it has something important inside?"

Trish snatched it out of his hand and ripped the package open. She took out an old audio tape recorder.

"They still make these," she asked as she inspected the device in her hand.

Dez took it out of her hand. He thumbed the side of the recorder and pressed down on the largest button.

The recorder played Mr. Wade's voice. _"Hey, Sonny."_

"Dad," Dez whimpered as he held the recorder tighter.

The recorder continued to play. _"Hey, Trish."_

Dez and Trish looked at each other with wide eyes.

_"Thank God that you are both safe. I know things look bad. Well, to say frankly, they are bad. De la Rosa and I are in some trouble. You and Trish need to listen carefully to these instructions: Take the plane tickets in this package and get on the next flight. When you land, talk to no one. Walk to the train station and use the train tickets in the package. Your caregiver will pick you up at the station. We split the families up for safety. Your mothers are safe together and Didi and JJ are safe in another location. Stick together. When it is safe, I will come for you."_

Static played from the recorder when the message ended. Dez clicked another button and let the recorder fall from his hand.

"Dad?"

Trish grabbed the recorder and took out the cassette tape. She yanked the film from the tape out.

"What are you doing," shouted Dez as he lunged toward the tape.

Trish blocked him with her elbow. He continued to reach for it, but she held it behind her back with one hand and unsnapped her seatbelt with the other. She shoved him away and grabbed some manicure scissors from her dash compartment.

"We were just chased down by guys with missile cannons and guns. I don't think we want a secret message just lying around!" She cut up the film. "Hand me the matches in that compartment."

Dez threw the matches at her. "Thanks for destroying the last thing I have of my father's."

Trish rolled her eyes and got out of the car. She tossed the shreds into a garbage can and set the film aflame. After seeing the film crinkle, she ran back and got into the car.

Dez was crying into his hands again.

"Freckles!" Trish gripped his shoulders and pressed her nose to his nose. "Get. A. Grip! Your dad, and apparently mine, knew what was going to happen. Mr. Wade said, and I quote, 'When it is safe, I will come for you.' As in he obviously faked his own death. He knew they were going to burn that house to the ground. He wasn't in there. Now shut-up and stop getting tears on my leather seats."

Dez blinked. A small smile spread across his lips. "He's okay." He took Trish by the shoulders and pulled her into a tight hug. "He's okay!"

Trish pushed him away gently. She combed her curls back with her hand. "Yes, he's okay. You don't have to cry anymore."

Dez wiped away a few more tears and smiled at Trish.

She cleared her throat and grabbed the box the recorder came in. She pulled out a few slips of paper.

"Everything is here, the plane tickets and the train tickets."

Dez looked over the slips of paper in her hand. "What about IDs?"

"Check your backpack."

Dez rummaged in his bag. He pulled out his camera, a flashlight, an umbrella and a picture frame. "I don't remember putting this stuff in there."

Trish took the bag and pulled out a wallet. She opened it and revealed two sets of IDs and some cash. She took the IDs with her picture on them and matched the IDs to the tickets. "I guess our dads are in a lot of trouble. These are fake IDs. I change names twice. I'm Ester Ellen on the plane and Isabella Ortiz on the train."

Dez read over the plane tickets. "And they wanted us to move fast. If we don't leave now, we're going to miss our flight."

Trish dumped all the materials onto Dez's lap. "After what just happened, I don't want to find out what happens if we miss that flight."

She turned the car on and drove out of the lot.

"We're seriously doing this," Dez asked.

"What choice do we have, Freckles?" Trish wiggled in her seat. "I really wish Dad would have paired me with Didi instead of you. You are the last person I would ever want to be stuck with. In fact, all this weird stuff started when you came over this morning."

"You cannot blame this on me, Trish. I thought my Dad was dead ten minutes ago," Dez said. He searched the girl's face for a sign that she was kidding. She frowned.

"Well, he's not. Don't talk to me, Doof."

The teens were silent until Trish pulled into a space marked for persons with handicaps at the airport. Dez repacked his bag and stared out the window.

"Look. I'm glad your dad is okay, really. This is all super crazy, though. The only thing we can keep normal is how we treat each other. I'm still Queen Bee and you're still King of the Weirdos," said Trish.

"You're right. This is the way you've liked things since fifth grade; why not continue life as normal," Dez huffed before getting out of the car.

"Good."

Trish got out and followed him to the trunk. She looked down at her disheveled outfit and said, "I really wish I had packed a bag."

Dez swung his backpack over his shoulder and adjusted the straps. "Well, I didn't bring any clothes either. My dad packed my backpack, obviously, because I couldn't find it this morning…" Dez scratched his chin. "Wait."

Trish looked up from her dress to see Dez point at her. "What?"

"Have you been missing any bags lately?"

"I don't know, Freckles, why?"

Dez glanced at the trunk of the car. "Open the trunk."

Trish gave Dez an annoyed look, but she opened the trunk anyway. She pulled out two cheetah print bags. One had hot pink spots all over it and the other had orange handles.

"My bag," Trish cheered as she lifted the pink spotted bag. "I don't recognize the other one."

"My bag," Dez exclaimed before taking the bag with the orange handles. "I was wondering where it had gone."

Trish shook her head and closed the trunk. "This is one of the many reasons why I don't talk to you."

Dez shrugged off the comment. "You're parked illegally."

"Yeah, so the car will be towed. If anyone tries to follow us, they won't have any evidence that we were here." Trish looked at her Porsche and pouted. "I'm so sorry to do this to you, baby. Forgive me."

"Oh, cool. That's really smart, Trish."

"Yeah, yeah." Trish took her plane ticket out of Dez's hand. She started running towards the airport and yelled over her shoulder, "Once we get inside, stay away from me. Just because we are going to the same place, doesn't mean we have to spend any time together."

Dez watched her turn away. "Got it," he mumbled.


	2. Chapter 2

Trish flipped her hair and hoisted her bag over her shoulder as she stood in front of the airport security desk. A female officer held up a photo ID and glanced from Trish's face to the face printed on the plastic. Trish feigned a smile and tapped her foot impatiently. The officer pressed a few keys on the keyboard in front of her then read the computer screen. She nodded then handed Trish the card.

"Here you are, Mrs. Ester Ellen," the officer smiled. She stamped the plane ticket and handed it to Trish.

"Thanks."

Trish moved forward, but the officer stopped her.

"Um, is there a problem," Trish asked in a confident tone.

"Where is your husband?" The officer read the computer screen. "Your flight information has you seated beside him."

"My what?"

"Mr. Adam Ellen here."

Dez stood behind Trish. He handed his ID and plane ticket to the officer.

"Hello, Mr. Ellen," the officer greeted Dez.

Dez smirked at Trish and wiggled his eyebrows. Trish grimaced at Dez and narrowed her eyebrows.

"Oh, young love. My husband and I got married at eighteen, too. We had known each other since we were toddlers," the officer chatted as she handed Dez his card and ticket.

"Us too," Dez dragged the last syllable. "What a small world."

"That's enough side chat; we have to go! Thanks, bye," Trish snapped.

Trish clenched Dez's arm and pulled him towards the gate.

"She just loves spending time together," Dez yelled as Trish pulled him around the corner.

Dez chuckled until Trish yanked him into a long line at the boarding area. She let go of his arm and shoved it away before standing with her back toward him.

"This is the worst day of my life. I'm so trading seats with someone when we get on this plane."

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. I'll stop laughing."

Dez folded his lips and pointed to his face. He tapped Trish on the shoulder, but she shrugged him off. She turned to face him and crossed her arms.

"No, we're still in Miami. What if someone from school is at the airport? I don't want to be seen with you. And more importantly, you're super annoying," Trish complained. "I'll sit beside anyone who isn't you."

She turned her back to him. He glanced around the airport then pulled her out of the line and to a corner near a newsstand. He put his hands on her shoulders as he leaned forward.

"Did you forget everything that just happened," Dez whispered. "My dad said, 'talk to no one'. You can't trade seats. It might not be safe."

Trish shifted her gaze from Dez to the boarding area where people walked around. Everywhere she looked, some guy had a feature like the man who shot the missile at the Wade house.

"Fine," she whispered.

She pulled away from him and said, "I'll ditch you on the train."

She brushed past him and got back in line between a little boy and a young woman. Dez watched the girl stand in line. She sneered at the little boy in front of her. She turned to the lady behind her and gave the lady's outfit a disgusted look before turning back around.

"Remember what Dad said this morning." Dez let out a breath and closed his eyes. "Just get along with her. Just get along with her."

"Adam Ellen! Get over here," Trish yelled, breaking Dez's concentration. "Now!"

The line moved forward, and soon Trish and Dez were seated 39,000 feet above the ground. Trish was restless in her seat. She pushed her seat back and then forward; She propped her knees on the seat but eventually settled her heals on the ground. She looked over at Dez, who leaned against the window and crossed his arms.

"Stop pouting," Trish grumbled.

"I'm not pouting. Stop moving around," Dez replied; he poked his bottom lip out and pressed his shoulder harder against the window.

"Well excuse me for being uncomfortable. I'm not use to flying coach, and I wasn't exactly planning on traveling today."

Dez rolled his eyes and sighed. He reached under his seat for his backpack. He removed his camera and flashlight before propping the bag behind Trish's head.

"There you go; your very own pillow." Dez smiled at his work.

"Gee, thanks. The smelly nerd bag you've been carrying ham in since third grade. It's like I'm flying first class now."

"I'm trying to be nice." Dez frowned and leaned forward. "And I am. So can I please go to the bathroom, now?"

"No, De-Ellen! Adam Ellen. You've already gone to the bathroom like four times. What is up with your bladder anyway?"

"Hey, I've only gone twice. And I've had a very stressful morning, Ester."

"I'm having a stressful now," Trish muttered.

She rested her head against the makeshift pillow while Dez stuffed the flashlight into the seat pocket. A male steward in a blue and white uniform pushed a beverage cart down the aisle and stopped beside Trish.

"Would you like something to drink, ma'am?"

Trish sat up and leaned over the cart. "Unless you have seltzer water flavored with fresh raspberries and limes or an iced caramel mocha with coconut milk, no thanks," Trish answered.

"Well." The steward cleared his throat and looked at Dez. "What about you, sir?"

"Could you pour a little of every soda in one cup? Oh, and throw in some apple juice," Dez replied.

The steward scrunched his nose. "Sure, sir."

Dez bounced in his seat while the steward mixed the carbonated flavors in a little plastic cup. The steward handed Dez, who let the bubbles from the fizz splash against his nose, the drink.

"You two make an interesting pair," the steward said.

"We are not a pair," Trish and Dez shouted simultaneously, which caused the steward to jump back slightly.

Trish's eyes wandered to a man seated in the row in front of her on the other side of the plane. He wore an all-black suit and looked intently at her. She refocused her attention to the steward and gave him a feigned smile.

"I mean because we are so much more than that," Trish said quickly.

"Huh," Dez asked before taking a sip of his drink. He sputtered and scrunched his nose. "That's nasty."

"Tell me about it," Trish muttered. She forced out a laugh. "I mean, that's my, ugh, husband."

"That drink is awful," said Dez as he handed the cup back to the steward. "And what are you talking about Tr...,"

Trish nudged Dez with her elbow. She jerked her head toward the man in the all-black suit. The man stared at Dez.

"Oh, yes, my wife. I'm her husband. We pay taxes and share our snacks," Dez said in a deep voice, looking at the steward.

The steward offered the cup of mixed soda to Trish. "So would you like the other half of this concoction?"

Trish pushed the cup away. "Gross, no! My husband's an idiot, and I married him for his looks. Now, leave us alone."

The steward huffed and pushed the cart down the aisle. Trish leaned over to watch the man in the suit turn away. She let out a breath and slumped down in her seat before fixing a hard look at Dez.

"No more drawing attention to ourselves, Adam. Stop being loud and annoying."

"I wasn't the only one being loud, and I'm sorry I almost blew our cover. I forgot."

"Whatever. We need to be on high alert until we get to wherever we're going." Trish leaned over and whispered, "And once we're there, I can really ditch you."

Dez slide down in his seat and leaned closer to Trish. "We're going to the same place."

"But I'm sure wherever it is has to be some huge city with lots of people. That way it will be hard to find us, right? And just because we're going to the same place, it doesn't mean we will have the same caregiver. My dad loves me. And he's met you."

Trish leaned away from Dez and crossed her arms. She closed her eyes and blew some strands of hair out of her face. Dez took out the flashlight and turned it on and then off a few times. He stuffed it back in the seat pocket before slouching in his seat some more. He looked over at Trish and nudged her with his elbow. She didn't respond, so he moved closer and hummed.

"What, Adam Ellen?"

"Is that why you date all those shallow guys?"

Trish opened one eye and turned her head slightly toward Dez. "What?"

"Looks. Because they look good?"

"One, I do not find you attractive at all. It was the first thing I could think of after I called you an idiot. And two, Yes, I like to date hot guys. If you ever dated, then you might understand why." She closed her eye and turned away.

"It's all about status. I always had my suspicions, but this confirms it."

Dez sat up straight. Trish opened her eyes and mimicked his posture. She tilted her head up to glare at Dez.

"What are you saying, Adam?"

"I'm saying, Ester, you dated Trent, Jase and Roger."

"So?"

Dez pressed his fingertips together and held his hands in front of his face. He looked down at Trish.

"Trent has dated every A-list girl, and a few B and C-list girls, at Marino. He also wins the talent show every year. Jase is the captain of like every extreme sport team, and Roger is the best dancer in Miami."

"So I have a thing for talented guys."

"You have a thing for status, and so do they. In fact, I don't get why you walk around acting like your better than everyone when people just use you."

Trish narrowed her eyes and gripped Dez's collar. "Watch it. I don't act like I'm better; I am better."

Dez wiggled out of Trish's grip. He slid down in his seat to be eye level with Trish.

"You don't have to get all defensive. I'm just saying, maybe if you stopped acting so bossy then you could get some real friends or a real boyfriend."

"You don't have any friends. How would you know?"

"You don't have any friends either. Trent just wanted to date the most popular girl so he could hook up with her friends. You dated Trent for like, what, three months before he started hanging all over Kira. Next thing you know, Kira's dad is producing Trent's EP. You dated Jase for a year before he was sponsored by the PowerUp Energy Drink's pro skateboard team. And isn't your mom friends with the PowerUp CEO's daughter? Roger dated you for a week and a half before he was the new backup dancer in the Jasmine Fiera music video."

"You stalk me?"

"You use those guys to become even more popular by being the one to date them first."

"Don't waste your two brain cells trying to psychoanalyze me."

"And you let them use you for connections to get ahead."

Trish growled and pressed her nose against Dez's nose.

"I'll have you know that I set up every meeting and every deal for each one of them, not Kira and not my mom. I'm always the manager. And yes, I date successful dudes because bosses date bosses."

Dez scooted back and rubbed his nose. "But who do you date now?"

Trish snatched Dez's backpack from behind her and threw it at him. "You are so annoying!"

A few heads turned toward the couple and the audience murmured.

Trish lifted her hand to her cheek to cover her face. Dez rubbed the back of his neck. He widened his eyes at Trish, who flared her nostrils and folded her lips at him.

"Uh." Dez gave the audience a wide smile. "Screaming is her love language. Don't mind us. Happy couple right here!"

Trish grabbed Dez's ear and brought it down to her lips.

"You can go to the bathroom now. And while you're in there, do me a favor and fall through the toilet."

She pushed him away and crossed her arms. Dez rubbed his ear and climbed over her to get to the aisle.

"We need some time apart, Mrs. Ellen."

"Good. Let's start now, Mr. Ellen."

Dez rubbed his ear and pouted as he walked down the aisle. Trish huffed and forcefully hit her back against the seat before shutting her eyes.

"Excuse me. Excuse me. Oh, excuse me," Dez apologized as he maneuvered through the aircraft. He paused at the bathroom door at the rear of the plane and read the sign taped to the door. "Hmm, 'broken lock.'"

He looked to the right and saw the steward from earlier sitting with his legs stretched across two seats. The man had a magazine in his hand and earbuds in his ears. Dez tapped him on the shoulder.

"Excuse me, sir. But can I use this bathroom with the broken door?"

The steward took out his earbuds and looked up at Dez. He grimaced and said, "Oh, you. Look, when I'm rolling that cart up and down the aisle, I'm at your service. Right now, I'm on break."

"So, yes?"

The steward put his earbuds back in, cranked up the music and stuck his nose in the magazine.

"So, yes," Dez said to himself. He stepped inside the bathroom and pressed hard on the door until it stuck.

"I better make this quick."

Dez whistled while he used the restroom; he glanced around the small space. He saw a few "Do Not Mess with the Smoke Detector" signs, a small sink and a smudged mirror.

"Yay! Happy bladder," he cheered as he zipped up his pants. He flushed the toilet and stepped over to the faucet.

"Copyright infringement is not fun; sing a different song, everyone," Dez sang. He glanced up at the mirror and jumped back when he saw the image of the man in the all-black suit. Dez held up his arms and spun around to face the man.

"Is this about the Happy Birthday song? I don't sing it when I wash my hands anymore!"

The man's silvery hair swept over his dark eyes. He held up a syringe and sneered. A blue serum glistened from the tip of the needle.

"Don't test me," the man replied.

Trish opened her eyes and stretched in her seat. She gave a bored look to the couple beside her then looked at the row in front of them. She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes.

"Where is Mr. Black Suit," she murmured.

She turned to her right and saw Dez's camera in the seat. She looked back at the empty seat in the row in front of her and frowned.

"We've only had like five minutes apart, and I have to go look for him," Trish grumbled.

"Move. Move. Ugh, move," she ordered as she maneuvered through the aircraft.

The bathroom door was cracked open when she got to it, so she tiptoed and moved her ear as close to the crack as possible without pushing open the door.

"Um, test? I'm horrible at test, especially grammar test. Did you notice I didn't make the noun plural at all in that sentence? And you didn't even use the word as a noun; you used it as a verb. Well, I really should be getting back to my seat," Dez babbled. He took a step forward, but the man blocked the exit.

"Your daddy has something that my boss wants. Now, I'm going to give you this nice shot to help you sleep for the next twelve hours. You're going to help me make a trade," the man said. "This is going to hurt."

Dez gulped, but the reflection in the mirror of long curls poking through the door caught his attention.

He cleared his throat and loudly said, "Shouldn't you step back some before you do that. So I don't fall into the toilet after the shot?"

The man glared at Dez. "Don't play games, kid. We could do this the easy way or the…"

"I have to fart," Dez interrupted.

The man took a step back, towards the door, and tilted his head to the side. "I'm threatening you and…"

The door swung open and hit the man in the head, making him drop the syringe. He whipped around to see Trish. Dez moved to the side of the stall and grabbed the syringe.

"I'm going to rip the curls off your pretty little head," the man snarled.

He lunged at Trish, but Dez pulled him by the blazer. The man stumbled and fell back. Dez jumped to the side and the man landed in the toilet.

Trish snatched the syringe out of Dez's hand and stabbed the needle into Mr. Black Suit's neck. She injected the medicine before the man could pull the needle out. She grabbed Dez's sleeve and pulled him out of the bathroom. Dez slammed the door and stood beside Trish.

"Are you nuts," he asked in a hoarse whisper.

She gripped his sleeve tighter. "I watched a movie last night and that's how the nurse gave the hero a shot."

"What kind of movie was it?"

"Zaliens Ten."

"You get your medical advice from a zombie slash alien movie?"

The steward stood up from his seat in the back and tapped Dez and Trish on the shoulder. Both teens jumped and yelped in surprise.

"Excuse me, I'm about to start our second round of beverage service, so if you don't mind, please take a seat," the steward instructed.

Dez pointed over his shoulder to the bathroom door. "You aren't going to ask about anything that just happened? You didn't see any of that?"

"If what I saw was a features article on the country music sensation Gavin Young, then yes, I saw everything, and my only question is do you know where I can get discount concert tickets."

"I'm going to assume you're being sarcastic about the discount concert tickets," Trish said.

"Then go to your seats," the steward replied.

They returned to their seats and plopped down. Dez noticed Trish chew on her bottom lip.

"Don't worry. That stuff will only make him sleep for the next twelve hours. We'll be long gone by then," Dez assured her. He patted her head and added, "Your curls will be safe."

Trish let out a small laugh but immediately cleared her throat and said, "Yeah, whatever."

Dez picked up his backpack and offered it to her. "Mr. Ellen doesn't want any more time apart," he let her take the bag, "at least for now."

"Fine. But no more talking about my exes," said Trish. She put the bag behind her head and closed her eyes.

Dez didn't reply, but fiddled with his camera instead. He switched between messing with his camera and flipping through the pages of the inflight magazine for two hours. He tucked the magazine into the pocket of the seat and picked up his camera. He pointed it at the girl beside him, who still had her eyes shut.

He pointed the lens at her shoes and zoomed in to see the embellishments that lined the printed flowers. He zoomed out and then pointed the camera at her face and zoomed in.

"One, two, three, four, five, six—wait, I already did that one. One, two," Dez counted aloud.

"What are you doing," Trish asked without opening her eyes.

"Counting the sparkles in your lip gloss."

"Get that camera out of my face," she said with her eyes still closed.

"But I'm bored!"

Trish opened her eyes and looked up at him from her slouched position. She pushed the camera out of her face and sat up straight.

"I've been sitting here for two hours trying to sleep, but I can't because of the stupid loud plane engine. I can't text or tweet or snap selfies because I don't have my phone. So I don't care if you're bored."

"It looks like everyone around us is asleep. We could talk," Dez suggested.

"No we couldn't. You don't have anything interesting going on in your life."

"Fine. You could talk."

Trish sighed and took the backpack from behind her head. She put the bag in her lap, turned her hips and faced Dez.

"I guess I don't have any other options. I mean, I let Margo come to my party last weekend and hangout with me, so I guess I could handle a conversation with you."

"Whoa, you actually hung out with Margo? The serial hugger?"

"She blackmailed me. She can be a real bully."

"This coming from you?"

"I'm serious. I didn't know she had it in her, but she is sneaky. I would rather have her on team popular than trying to troll me on the Internet."

"I don't understand your group at all. I knew you didn't have any real friends, but I didn't realize it was this bad. You actually want a girl who blackmailed you to be in your circle."

"Don't start with the 'real friends' stuff again. You wouldn't understand because you're at the bottom of the hierarchy. I'm like a gluten-free salted caramel cupcake with organic ganache filling and you're saltine crackers."

"But aren't saltine crackers better for you?"

"Ew, are you hitting on me?"

"I'm just saying that real friendships are what matter. Having someone that has your back. Someone to watch movies with, and fly kites with, and dress-up in fun costumes with."

"You know you have like zero chance with me right."

"I'm not hitting on you, Ester. Stop trying to change the subject. Also, for anyone listening, we have the weirdest marriage ever."

"What do you know about friendships anyway? You don't have any."

"I have friends."

"Name two."

"My parents."

"Family doesn't count."

"Your parents."

"I actually feel the doofness radiate off your body."

"Fine. I don't have any friends," Dez confessed. He put his head down and looked at his hands in his lap. "But, one day I will. I'll have a best friend." He lifted his head and smiled, "Maybe even two."

"Yeah, and a unicorn," Trish added sarcastically. Dez crossed his arms and turned his head away from her. "Fine, fine. Don't pout. You're right. It could happen, maybe in college. But right now, at Marino, unless the nerds finally let you join their group—and I'm talking about the aesthetically challenged nerds, not the hot nerds—two friends just isn't going to happen. I mean, just think about Carrie."

Dez slowly turned to the girl and stared. "What about Carrie?"

Trish widened her eyes and lifted her shoulder to her chin. "Nothing. Don't worry about it."

Dez shook his head and let out a breath. "Tr-Ester. What do you know about Carrie?"

"What do you know about Carrie," Trish echoed.

"I know that she was the coolest girl to come to Marino High. She just moved to Miami a few months before summer break and was into all the stuff I'm into: Zaliens, pizza, choreographed dance moves and knitting. Well, maybe not that last thing, but we had a lot in common. Until she ditched me."

"You seriously don't know what happened?"

"One weekend we were going square dancing and the next she was telling me we couldn't hang out anymore."

"Yeah, because you're weird and weird isn't a good reputation to have at our school. Don't you know Piper?"

"The new girl that hangs out with you and Kira. Yeah, everyone thinks she's hot, but I think she's mean. She tricked a bunch of sophomores into carrying her around on a surf board just to get a date with her."

Trish chuckled and raised her brows at Dez. "You can recount every guy I've dated, but you can't even piece together that Carrie and Piper are sisters? Come on, I didn't think you were that clueless."

Dez dropped his jaw. "Huh?"

"Uh, duh. Piper is my kind of girl. I told her that you weren't exactly the most popular guy anywhere."

Dez's chin quivered. "And she told her sister to stop hanging out with me."

"I know! Honestly, I didn't think she was going to do anything about it and just let Carrie join the D-list with you. But I guess she cares about her sister. That's cool, too."

Dez snatched his bag out of Trish's lap and opened it. He took out the umbrella and the picture frame. He grabbed the flashlight out of the seat pocket and put it with the other things on his lap.

"This stuff was for both of us, but I can't do it anymore. Dad said to get along with you, but I just can't."

"Oh, come on! I've been trying to split up this whole time and now you want to stop bothering me? It's not my fault about Carrie. I told you I didn't know Piper would squash that."

Dez packed his camera and handed Trish the flashlight.

"The camera was already mine, but you can have the flashlight."

"Mr. Ellen, lighten up. It's not a big deal."

Dez narrowed his eyes at Trish. "She was my friend. We had things in common. Do you know how often that happens? She was nice and fun and liked that I wore fun clothes and made silly jokes. But you wouldn't know anything about that because you don't have any friends. You're a bully. You force people who wouldn't hang out with you to hang out with because of your money and your parties and your big mouth."

Trish bit the side of her cheek and locked eyes with Dez. Their eyes were narrowed and their fists were clenched.

Trish spoke in a low and threatening tone, "Have it your way. As far as I'm concerned, once we get to our caregivers, we never have to speak again. You go your way and I'll go mine until your dad comes. Until then, don't speak unless spoken to."

Dez broke eye-contact and put the umbrella in his bag. He lifted the picture frame and, even though he was furious, he couldn't help but smile at the photo.

The photo was taken the year before on a Friday night. The Wades and De la Rosas were having their weekly dinner party and Mrs. De la Rosa had forced Trish to come. That night in particular was special because Mr. De la Rosa and Mr. Wade had received a multi-million dollar contract to design a high-tech device for some private company. It wasn't the first big project the team had taken on, but it was supposed to involve some high level science that the men were excited about. Mrs. Wade had cooked a huge meal and Dez even helped make some of the desserts. After dinner, Mr. Wade forced everyone to stand in the den and take a group photo.

Trish interrupted Dez's thoughts. "He obviously wanted us to have the photo in case we got homesick. But it is actually kind of dumb because it's evidence," she said.

Dez put the frame on her lap. "Then keep it safe."

Trish stood with the flashlight and the frame. "I'm going to go sit with the snarky steward in the back. Try and not get kidnapped," she snapped. She turned on her heels and stomped down the aisle. "Never get married!"

Dez put his bag in the empty seat then rested his chin on his fist. He noticed a wrinkled hand reaching over the seat in front of him. He lifted his head and saw a white card clenched in the old fist.

"Take the card, son. There's no shame in marriage counseling," a shaky voice called over the seat.

Dez took the card. "Uh, thank you." He shoved the card in his pocket and slouched down in his seat.


	3. Chapter 3

A wooden shack tilted to the left as dust blew by a sign that dangled from an overhang. It read "County Train Station." Tires screeched to a halt on red rusted train tracks. The train was an old 1920s passenger train that should have been scrapped for parts and abandoned years ago.

Trish stood parallel to the track. Her mouth hung open as she dropped her bag on the ground. A dust cloud formed and sent Dez into a coughing fit.

"Your dad can't be serious," Trish drawled. She pointed at the sign. "It's bad enough we had to walk here from the airport. I am not getting on anything with such a generic name. What did the town do? Remodel everything but the train station." She glanced back at the tall gleaming buildings far off in the distance. "This is awful." She raised her brow at Dez expectantly. "Freckles, say something!"

"We're not talking to each other," Dez said firmly.

He walked forward, kicking up dust and making Trish sneeze. He climbed rickety metal steps, which jutted from the train, and greeted an older man dressed in an ill-fitted uniform.

"Hello, friend," Dez smiled and handed the man a ticket.

The man frowned then turned his back on the teen. "Follow me," the attendant said in a raspy voice.

Dez nodded and followed the man past rows of chatting passengers. The man opened door after door until they reached the last box car.

"This will be your seating area," the attendant croaked.

The box car was cold and damp. Wooden crates took up most of the space.

"Wrong answer," Trish growled from behind Dez. "Do you know who I am?"

Dez clutched his toes to fight the urge to jump at the sound of Trish's voice.

"Isabella, according to your discount economy ticket," the attendant sniffed before backing out of the box car and shutting the door.

"I'm wearing Armand Bianchi shoes!" Trish yelled at the door. A crate creaked behind her and she looked over her shoulder to see Dez sit down. Trish folded her arms. "You're not going to tell me to calm down? Convince me to behave for our dads?"

"I'm not talking to you, Ester."

"Ellen."

"Not anymore! I want a divorce."

"For a fake marriage?"

"Then a fake divorce."

"Fine by me! I'm more than happy to just be Ester!"

"Isabella."

"Whatever, Dez!"

The young man winced. He was hurt and furious, but he couldn't shake the odd, warm feeling that crept through him when the frustrating girl said his name. His actual name, which she rarely used. Dez shook his head then lifted his legs in the air and turned his body to face away from her on the crate. He thumped his feet onto the floor.

"You do not turn your back on me. I turn my back on you." Trish kicked over a crate and plopped down. She flipped her curls over her shoulder and positioned her back towards him.

The sound of pebbles rumbling below began to fill the room before the train whistle blared.

Trish covered her ears, stood and walked around her crate, stopping in front of Dez. "I hate this train!"

"How is your yelling louder than the train?"

The train lurched forward, causing Trish to fall backward. Dez instinctively reached out for her, but failed to catch her. He hovered over Trish and gently lifted her head.

"Trish, are you okay! How's your head?"

Trish gazed up at Dez with wide eyes. "You confuse me," she said softly.

The comment threw Dez off guard, and he leaned back.

Trish cleared her throat and said quickly, "Don't hover over me, you doof. The air is bad enough without your breath choking me to death. What did you eat for breakfast?"

Dez gave her an angry frown and stood. "I don't remember, Trish. Maybe because some Crazy blew up my house while I was stuck chatting with a Crazier Crazy!"

Trish got to her feet and snarled, "I will pluck every last freckle off your ugly face."

"Those shoes are knockoffs."

Trish screamed and lunged at Dez, but the train jerked forward and sent her crashing into him. Trish's limbs were sprawled and her body pinned Dez to the floor.

"That hurt all of me," Dez groaned. He blew a few strands of Trish's hair away from his mouth.

"I continue to hate trains. That hurt so bad," Trish whined.

"It still hurts for those of us at the bottom of the pyramid."

Trish let out a long, loud groan. Dez pondered how much air she could hold in her lungs and if his spleen would rupture.

Finally she grunted, "Hate flying. Hate you."

"You say the same things every two seconds, and you're crushing my spleen! Please, get off of me!"

"No."

"No?"

"No! This train is not tossing me again!"

Dez wiggled around. "Trish, seriously, get off of me."

He lifted his head slightly to see Trish's curls move around. The pressure shifted from his spleen, but he was still pressed to the dirty box car floor.

"Trish, get off of me. Right now!"

Dez waited for some sort of rude verbal and physical response, but instead he heard soft snoring and felt Trish's chest rhythmically rise and fall against his own.

"You're sleeping!"

Trish growled in her sleep, so Dez shut his lips together. Suddenly, the stress of the day weighed on his eyelids and he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Water droplets splashed across Dez's cheek. He scrunched his nose in his sleep.

"Ew, don't drool, Trish."

A drop dripped onto Trish's neck. She snuggled into Dez and kept her eyes shut.

"That's cold. Stop Ryan," Trish cooed.

Another drop hit Dez's nose. He fluttered his eyes open.

"Your Ryan-Gosling-fantasy drool is gross. He's not even that good looking."

Trish tensed her shoulders and stretched her legs. She yawned then opened her eyes. More drops of water splashed on her. She lifted herself up by pushing down on Dez's stomach.

"Ouch!"

Trish jumped back and landed beside him on the floor.

"Doof? Gross! Don't touch me."

Dez sat up and pointed at his chest.

"Me! You're the one that fell asleep."

"That never happened," Trish shrugged.

"Yes it did. It just happened, like, a second ago."

"If you want to see the next second, don't come near me again."

Trish crawled over to the other side of the box car. "We only have to tolerate each other for a few more hours, then adios." She combed her fingers through her hair. "Besides, I thought you weren't talking to me."

"Now I am not talking to you even more. You tackled me and then you crushed my rib cage. And you won't even admit it!"

"Well, ha, you talked to me. And that reminds me, you called me crazy!"

"You are! And I called you a crazier crazy. Because you ruined my cereal and you took away my only friend!"

"Don't blame me for that!"

"It was your fault!"

"Fine! Then I'm glad that Carrie ditched you!"

Thundered roared outside and the water droplets trickled through the patched roof rapidly. Trish bit her lip after the words tumbled out of her mouth. Dez's eyes watered.

"I hope I never see you again, Trish."

He clutched his knees and scooted to the other side of the box car.

"Stop being so dramatic, freckles," was as close to an apology as she could muster up.

"No, I mean it. You are mean and rude and awful. I never want to help you again."

"Well, I don't need your help!"

Thunder clapped and rain poured into the room. The teens' clothing quickly became soaked. Trish huddled into her corner but could not escape the rain. Dez blinked as he stared up at the ceiling. His blue eyes lit up before he crawled over to his bag. He removed the umbrella and popped it open. The handle balanced against his shoulder and the material spread over him, casting a rainbow hue on the dry space around him.

_Don't look at her _he thought. _You just vowed never to help her again. _Dez focused on a crack in the floor board. _Maybe she'll barge over here and make me share. Then that doesn't count as me helping her, right? _

Dez glanced at Trish. She hugged herself in the corner and glared at the ground.

_She's so stubborn! Just come over here. _Dez made eye-contact with the brown-eyed girl, but she stuck her little nose in the air and closed her eyes.

_Fine, be that way, Trish. Freeze in the rain. One less person to travel with. _Dez frowned as he twisted the handle. _I can't believe I just thought that. My dad would not be proud. Or Mom. Or Didi. Stupid Trish, making me think negative. Look at her. Shivering and scowling. Don't ask. Don't ask. _

"You want to share my umbrella?" Dez shut his eyes as soon as he asked.

"No," Trish spat.

The rain continued to pour.

_Just take the umbrella over there. _He thought. But he didn't budge. The train rumbled and rattled as it kept moving forward.

* * *

The train lurched backward, knocking Dez to the side. Breaks squealed, waking Trish from her damp slumber. She stood up and stretched. Wordlessly, she slung her bag over her shoulder, stomped past Dez, and left the box car.

She strode down the long aisles of each empty box car until she reached the boarding entrance.

"Some customer service! Just leave me on a train in the middle of nowhere," she shouted over her shoulder.

Silence.

Dez lumbered down the aisle.

"I wonder where nowhere is exactly," he said to himself.

"I can't hear you when you talk all low to yourself, Doof."

"I'm not talking to you."

Dez brushed past Trish; he started yanking on the door to open it.

"Oh. Then, please, please promise me it's for real this time. I cannot express how much I want you to leave me alone."

Trish pushed Dez out of the way and opened the door in one move. She looked at the red head for approval, but he slid past her and hopped off the train, not for long though. Almost as quickly as he escaped, he returned with his knees wobbling.

"It's completely dark," he stammered.

"Duh, it must be night."

"No, it's pitch-black outside. No lights at all."

Trish rolled her eyes then stepped out into the cold night air. Her damp shirt felt icy against her body.

"This does not feel like summer vacation weather," she mumbled.

She blew out a breath and strained her eyes in vain to catch a glimpse of white puffs. There were no street lamps or lit windows here. Even the light from inside the train was clouded by thick fog. Dez cautiously stepped out of the train and huddled behind Trish, who took the flashlight out of her bag and hit it until it came on.

Light cut through the fog as she directed it at different areas: An abandoned parking lot, a park bench missing its left leg, and a dense forest.

"Great," Trish said through clenched teeth, which were beginning to chatter.

She stomped over to the bench and sat down, only to slide down the broken seat.

Deep down, Dez wanted to laugh, however, the scary environment drained the amusement from the situation. He turned on his heels to retreat to the safety of the train when the whistle blew. The entrance door slammed shut and the wheels churned dirt and rocks on the tracks.

"Wait! Wait! Don't leave!" Dez cried out. He ran parallel to the tracks until he tripped over a large clump of dirt and landed flat on the ground.

The sound of the whistle faded as the locomotive rumbled away.

Dez pressed his face into the dirt and sighed. _Maybe I should just stay right here _he thought. A sharp howl sounded from the opposite side of the tracks, making the bright hair on the back of his neck stand up. _Nope. _He clumsily stood up and looked around.

Trish had watched Dez's attempt to catch the train; she had been torn between insulting him and ignoring him, but ended up choosing the latter. She heard the howl and pointed her flashlight at the mass of trees.

"Some caretaker," she grumbled before heading toward the forest.

Dez saw the beam of Trish's flashlight move toward the forest.

"Really? A scary night-time forest is her first pick?" Dez squeaked and paced while he kept his eyes on Trish.

"She'll come back," he tried to reassure himself.

The light disappeared behind a large tree. Dez yelped and ran in the direction Trish had went.

"Trish!"

The brunette whipped around, shining the light in Dez's eyes.

"Ah!" He shouted and held up a hand to shield his vision.

"You're not very good at this 'leave me alone thing' are you?" Trish asked sarcastically.

"What are you doing out here! There could be jackals or bears or leprechauns!" Dez shuddered.

"It beats waiting for people who clearly aren't coming tonight. I mean, I can see why your caretaker decided to dip out, but I'm a joy to be around."

Dez pursed his lips together and glared at the girl. "I'm taking the flashlight," he declared. He grabbed the base; Trish gripped the handle tight.

"You got the umbrella; I get the flashlight," Trish shouted.

"Give it!"

"You give it!"

The two tugged back and forth, crushing twigs and clumps of earth beneath their feet.

"I said," they both started before a gunshot rang out in the distance. A woman's cackle echoed.

Both teens froze, dropping the flashlight between them. Another gunshot fired and the cackle erupted again. Dez shrieked, earning a shove in the stomach from Trish, who swiped the flashlight and switched it off.

"I'd hit you again if I could see you," she whispered harshly.

"I'm afraid of the dark," Dez whimpered.

"Be more afraid of getting shot. Now shush. We need to hide."

"Maybe it's not for us?"

A gun fired off again, but this time the cackle was followed by a booming female voice shouting, "I'm gonna ship ya in a box to ya daddy, little red boy!"

Dez hugged himself and whispered, "I'm a little red boy."

"Who did our dads cheese off!? We have to hide."

"I can't see anything, Trish."

Trish bent down low and rubbed the ground until she felt the hump of a tree root.

"Feel the ground for roots big enough to hide behind," Trish ordered, moving forward and low to the forest floor.

Dez crouched, stepping carefully as he roamed his hands in the darkness. He felt something soft and began to knead with his hands. Trish let out the most girly giggle he or she had ever heard.

She shoved her elbow into his chest and growled, "That's not the ground, idiot. That's my head. Crouch lower, tall person."

Trish crept forward while Dez stooped lower to the ground. He clasped a thick root on his right.

"Come here," Dez whispered. He reached out one hand and wiggled his fingers around. "I found a spot. Grab my hand."

Trish stretched out her palms in different directions. "I can't find you."

Another gunshot fired and a dim light cut through the trees beyond the teens, though it wasn't enough to see the surrounding space.

"I'm gonna find ya," the hunter crooned.

"Trish, grab my hand!"

"I can't find you! Just hide. I'll find my own spot."

"No, Trish, get back here!" Dez searched for Trish's hand. "It's not safe; we need to stick together."

The hunter's cackle grew louder. Dez flung his body over the tree root just before the dim light shone above him. He pressed his back against the mossy tree while he peered over a branch to see the outline of a muscular woman with shaggy black hair. Her shotgun was expertly positioned and the light came from a fixture on the weapon.

"Come on out, youngens. Ma needs a new huntin' jacket."

Dez held his breath while the woman lingered. Finally, the light moved away. He exhaled and slid until his back was flat on the ground. It was so dark that he didn't bother to close his eyes. But then a chill coursed through his veins. He sprang up and laced his fingers together.

"God, please let Trish be okay," he prayed, tears starting to warm his face. "I'm mad at her – it's true – but she's the only Trish I have."

A few yards ahead, Trish alternated between looking over her shoulder and feeling on the fertile ground.

"I can't believe I'm going to die in this outfit," she whined. "And now I'm talking out loud to myself, like Dez."

She pouted, aware of the footsteps crunching in the darkness around her.

"I'm going to die before senior picture day; I'm sure Kira's going to love that."

The dim light grew brighter, so much that Trish could trace the outlines of the thinner trees in front of her. She swallowed a thick lump of saliva then stood up tall and straight. Her eyes started to burn, but she clenched her fist tight.

"I have no real friends, except for Jay. I didn't tell Papa or Mom thanks for my Porsche."

The crunching stopped. She saw the full spectrum of brown that coated the trees in front of her. Pollen glinted in the light that shone around her. Clicking from the reloaded shotgun resonated through the forest, nevertheless, Trish didn't flinch. Hot tears ran down her face. She turned to face her executor.

"The last guy I kissed…didn't even love me."

The hunter aimed her weapon. "I'm going to be rich."

Before Trish could register what happened, a thick branch sliced through the cold air and cracked against the hunter's skull. The hunter and her gun fell to the ground.

"Sorry," a sweet voice chimed in the darkness.

Trish switched on her flashlight then pointed at the hunter. A thin young woman with long brown hair tip-toed over the hunter and picked up the shotgun, removing the shells and pocketing them.

"Sorry I'm late, but you should have waited at the station, Trish. It is dangerous out here," the mystery woman reprimanded. She bent down to inspect the hunter's injuries. "Pulse is good. Pupils look fine. Crack was from the branch. A shallow cut on the forehead. She'll only be unconscious for a little while. I sent an anonymous tip and I already saw the ranger's truck a few yards back, so he'll be here before the predators but after we're gone."

Trish's mouth hung open; for once, she didn't have anything to say, yet.

The mystery woman stood up straight and looked around. "Hey, where's Dez?"


	4. Chapter 4

Trish and Dez crammed into the back of the mystery woman's tiny car while the woman drummed her fingers on the steering wheel.

"One of you _could_ get in the front seat, you know. It's a little more spacious."

Trish raised her eyebrow and said, "The only reason that I'm in this car, Alex Boom, is because you saved my butt in the forest. I still have no idea who you are or what you're doing here."

Dez patted the woman on the shoulder and added, "You seem super nice though."

The driver started the engine and drove out of the parking lot. The tires made a crunching sound as she pulled onto a dirt road. "Thanks, Dez. And it's Ally Moon, Trish."

"How do you know our names?" The teens in the back asked.

"I'm your caretaker, of course. You two will be staying with us until this thing with your dads is cleared up."

"You know what happened to my dad?" Dez asked, squeezing Ally's shoulder.

"Ow!"

"Sorry," he said, loosening his grip, "I'm kind of freaked out."

Ally patted his hand gently and said softly, "Mr. Wade is fine. And so is Mr. De la Rosa. But everything else is still classified, so I'm not really useful for any other questions."

Trish yanked Dez back from Ally.

"No offense, but you seem puny for a bodyguard."

"And you seem alive for someone who had a gun to her face," Ally replied.

Dez chuckled, but cleared his throat when Trish gave him a threatening look.

"Besides, I'm not a bodyguard. Where I live is kind of the top spot for never being found. The government helps us financially while we hide members of the witness protection program."

"The government is involved?" Trish asked.

"Us?" Dez mused.

Trish waved her hands and shook her head in confusion. "Wait a second, if you're my caretaker, then why is Dez here?"

"You're paired together. Didn't you know that?"

"Just for travel purposes," Trish insisted.

"_No_, you're paired together until this is all over. We're supposed to take care of both of you," Ally explained.

"You said 'us' and 'we'," Dez used finger quotes, "do you have like a partner or something?"

"The best partner," Ally chuckled.

"Sounds good," Dez nodded. He climbed out of the back and sat in the passenger's seat.

"What are you doing," Trish yelled. Dez ignored her and clicked on his seatbelt.

"This is a sweet ride." He pressed his fingertips to the fabric above his hair. "My head touches the ceiling, but that's okay."

Ally giggled.

"You were in a limited edition Porsche earlier," Trish argued from the rear.

Dez grinned wide at Ally. "You laugh a lot," Dez said.

"You're funny," Ally replied with a shrug.

"I'm going to sleep! Wake me when we get there. Or not. I really don't care," Trish huffed. She waited for a response, but when none came, she sprawled across the backseat and shut her eyes.

After waiting until he heard soft snores to speak, Dez explained, "Sleeping is her way of handling stress." He rubbed his chest and added, "I learned that the hard way."

"You two have been through a lot today." Ally glanced at the rearview mirror to see Trish. "She'll be okay."

* * *

A pitiful breeze blew into the opened bedroom window, though it didn't do much to cool off the room. Trish kicked a blue, cotton blanket off her legs and snored. Around the room, plush dolphin toys watched the young woman sleep. From the top of the chestnut wardrobe to the yellow, chipped windowsill, their black eyes were fixed on her.

"Knock, knock," a voice called from the opposite side of the closed door. "Breakfast time! I made pancakes!"

Trish yawned with her eyes still closed. "I had the worst nightmare." She sat up and blinked. Twenty sets of dull eyes stared at her. She screamed so loud that animals outside her window went crazy: dogs howled, birds squawked and horses grunted, which only caused her to scream louder.

The door swung open and a young man rushed into the room. He knelt down and gently held Trish by the arms.

"Calm down. You're okay," he said.

Trish's breaths were short and strained, but as she locked eyes with the guy in front of her, they became steady. Warm brown eyes and dusty blond hair made her relax.

"Better?" he asked.

She poked his well-defined arm. "I am now."

"Good!" He let go of her arms and offered his hand for her to shake. "Sup, I'm Austin Moon."

Trish dropped her smirk and folded her arms. "Moon. Are you serious?" She fell back against the pillows. "Wait. But it's just a last name." She sprang back up and gave his bicep a flirty squeeze. "Do you, maybe, have a sister?"

"Weird question, but nope. Only child," Austin replied.

Trish groaned. "Fine, just making sure."

"Okay..." He stood up and pointed his thumb over his shoulder. "Well, the pancakes are ready. I'll make sure you get the hottest ones," Austin said kindly before walking out of the room and leaving the door open.

"Alex already did that," Trish mumbled from the bed.

"It's Ally," Dez said as he walked past her door in the hallway.

Trish rolled her eyes and pressed herself off the bed. She ran her fingers through her curls as she inspected to room. The twin-sized bed was a quarter of the size of her own mattress back home. And it was not decorated with nearly enough pillows. The curtains on the window were thin and did nothing to block out the sunshine. The sound of footsteps made her turn towards the door.

Ally walked in and smiled. "What do you think of your room?"

"It looks like your grandma, who doesn't like you, decorated after she lost her glasses and then stuffed-dolphin demons spawned in it," Trish replied.

"So you like it."

"It proves your life is very sad."

"I heard you in the woods. The last guy that _I_ kissed, loves me. I don't think my life is sad at all." With that said, Ally turned on her heels and left Trish bewildered.

"Who has this many dolphins!"

* * *

Trish trudged down the wooden stairs. The first room she entered was a large den. Two navy blue loveseats, a white sofa, and a white arm chair were neatly arranged and navy and white polka-dotted ottomans spotted the room. A large flat screen television was positioned on the wall, and an electric fireplace was on the opposite side of the room.

"Awesome!" Austin shouted from somewhere in the house.

Trish followed the shout down another hall. She passed framed pictures of Austin and Ally and a few of a tall blond woman and a tall handsome man, who she assumed were Austin's parents. At the end of the hall, she found found Ally, Dez, and Austin in the kitchen. In front of wide open French doors, Ally sipped on a cup of tea and reclined at a round kitchen table. Dez and Austin were seated on stools opposite each other around a wooden countertop.

"Do it again!" Austin cheered.

Dez picked up a pancake from the stack on the plate in front of him and tossed it at Austin while Austin tossed a pancake at Dez. They caught the cakes in their mouths then chugged a bottle of maple syrup.

"We should do the same with bacon," Dez squealed, syrup dripping down his chin.

"You're the coolest dude ever, Dez," Austin said, shaking his fork at the red-head. "You have got to hang out with me today."

Dez tried – failing miserably – to fight back a grin.

"The first and last time those words are heard," Trish said sarcastically.

Dez's good mood deflated and he frowned down at his breakfast.

"Really," Austin said, giving Trish a disapproving look. "Don't listen to her, dude." He grinned. "Hey, I have a bacon guy."

"You do not have a bacon guy, Austin. You buy it from the market. All you do at Nelson's is play with his piglets," Ally said from the table.

"Quiet woman," Austin said playfully. "Come on, Dez. Let's go be men."

"Wash the dishes," Ally instructed before sipping her tea.

"Let's wash the dishes like men," Austin said as he and Dez gathered their plates and moved to the sink.

Ally looked directly into Trish's eyes. "Let's take a walk," Ally said, no room for argument present in her voice. She delicately put down her cup and exited out the French doors.

Trish followed and tried to fall in-step with Ally, who strolled gracefully down the stone path. Flowers sprawled lazily over the path and blossomed plants spilled out of their hanging pots. Trish sashayed beside Ally. Honestly, she felt awkward walking beside Ally. Girls at Marino High sashayed; they wore designer heels and trendy clothes and made a show of walking in public with each other. Ally just walked.

"You walk weird," Trish said, "It's annoying."

Ally stopped, causing Trish to walk past her. Trish turned and looked at Ally expectantly. "I thought we were going somewhere?"

Not many things made Trish nervous, but the stern look on Ally's face definitely made her uncomfortable: Ally's brows were raised high and her lips were stretched thin.

_She looks like a younger, paler version of my mom _Trish thought.

"I will not allow you to bully Dez while you're here," Ally said.

"Excuse me? Did you say 'allow' me? Who do you think you are?"

"I'm the one who saved your butt, drove you to my home and gave you a place to stay during your time of need. Your father created technology that every major international threat on the planet is after."

"That's not my fault," Trish snapped.

"Do you realize the project's benefactors want Mr. De la Rosa and his family dead? Your father refused to educate dangerous criminals on the technology's operation. Very rich and powerful individuals, Trish. Mr. De la Rosa and Mr. Wade are heroes. And you don't even respect them enough to get along with your partner."

Trish bit the inside of her cheek and glared at Ally. "Yes ma'am. Now are you going to ground me and make me wash dishes, or may I go back to that awful excuse for a bedroom."

Ally stepped to the side and motioned at the stone path. Trish stomped away, making sure to knock into Ally's shoulder as she went by.

* * *

"Jerks!"

Trish slammed her bedroom door and pressed the back of her head against the wood. She eyed the largest blue dolphin piled in the wastebasket and ran over to it. She snatched up the poor toy and threw it across the room. "I hate this place!"

She stomped across the room, picked up the dolphin, and threw it with more force at the wall. "Stupid Ally! Stupid Dez!" If the toy were filled with anything other than fluffy cotton goodness, it would have bulldozed through the wall. Her shoulders heaved as she panted; hot tears rolled down her face.

"Daddy," she cried in a raspy voice. She sank to the floor and crawled over to her bag. She dumped out its contents and picked up the picture frame.

"You idiots," she whispered as she traced her fingers over her father at Mr. Wade's dinner party. "Didn't you have enough? Did you have to be so smart?" She hugged the picture to her chest and continued to cry.

* * *

Dez and Austin sat on bales of hay inside the fenced area of a bright yellow barn. Dez nursed a piglet with a baby bottle. Austin cradled two piglets in his arms.

"That Nelson guy seems pretty young to own a pig farm," Dez said.

"His dad owns the farm," Austin replied.

"Ah, that makes more sense. Hey, how old are you? You seem my age, but you're like married and a government spy."

"Eighteen. I'm not a spy - that'd be so cool - but I guess Ally and I technically work with the witness protection program, but it's like we're contractors. And they pay really well. Enough for us to keep the house and the land and the animals. But my marriage, it didn't happen in a normal way. Ally really sacrificed a lot to help me."

"So, you're married, quote not a spy unquote, and a farmer?"

"Um, the house and land and stuff used to be Moon's Lit Inn. My great-great-great grandpa bought most of the land up the mountain and all of the valley. He built the house and started the farm. My great-grandfather turned it into an inn and sold some of the land to other farmers. My grandfather inherited and renovated the inn and then my parents got it after him."

"That's a lot of history. I don't really like history, but you make it sound interesting." Dez looked down at the piglet in his arms. "Or pigs make things more fun. Anyway, on with the story. Where are your parents now? I haven't seen them, yet."

Austin gently placed his piglets on the ground. He kept his eyes on them and said, "They died. Two years ago. I was sixteen when it happened. A freight truck knocked Mom and Dad's car over the road railing on the mountain. We tumbled sixty feet down the side."

"You were in the car?"

"Yeah. God saved my life, but I guess he decided it was time for Mom and Dad to go. It sucked. It still sucks." Austin cleared his throat. He looked up and saw a teary-eyed Dez. "Oh, I'm sorry, Dez. Don't cry, man. They're in a better place."

"It's just so sad!" Dez wailed. He put down the pig before leaning over and sobbing into the hay.

"There, there," Austin said, patting his new friend's back.

"You brave soul!" Dez sat up and crushed Austin in a bear hug. "I'll do everything I can to ensure you have a cheerful day every day that I am here with you and Ally."

"You're a really nice guy, Dez. I bet you're super popular back home," Austin choked out. "Also, I can't breathe."

Dez let go of Austin and turned his reddening face to the side. "My bad, bud."

Austin inhaled deep and smiled. "Let's head back before Nelson's dad gets home. You have to keep a low profile."

"You got it, Agent Moon."

"Hey, that's got a nice ring to it."

* * *

"Ally!" Austin shouted as he and Dez walked through the pasture. Dez was mesmerized by the five horses grazing a few feet away from him. Two were chestnut brown with jet black hair; two were white with gray spots splashed across their lean forms, and one was mahogany with matching hair so bright that the red tones were amplified.

"Look! It's me!" Dez pointed at the reddish horse.

Austin chuckled until he heard Ally's voice.

"I'm over here!" Ally shouted.

He nudged Dez and walked into the barn. Inside, Ally shoveled horse manure. Her hair stuck to her forehead in the summer heat.

Dez scrunched his nose and waved his hand in front of his face. "Woo! That is not fresh."

"You get used to the smell," Austin said.

The woman shook her head. "No, you don't." She adjusted the clip on her nose then nodded toward some shovels. "Grab a shovel, boys."

Austin and Dez did as they were told and joined Ally in her disgusting but necessary task.

"I like your horses," Dez commented. "So majestic."

"My parents used to use them as an attraction for inn guests and local visitors. We would take them on trails and let kids ride around the pasture," Austin explained.

"Now, we let the town use them during the holiday season for carriage rides. It raises money for the arts program at the rec center," Ally added.

"Cool! You guys are super generous. I'm almost afraid to go to sleep tonight for fear you might actually be murderers, cause you two are crazy nice."

"Thanks. We think," Austin and Ally say at the same time.

"So where are your parents, Ally?" Dez asked. "They live around here?"

"My dad works for the government. He sort of oversees the cases we get assigned," Ally said. She held her shovel still and leaned against it. "And my mom, "her voice softened, "My mom…"

Austin reached over and rubbed Ally's back. "Let's just clean this stuff up," he said gently.

"I shouldn't have said ... I'm so sorry," Dez said. The conversation with Austin earlier played in his mind and he prayed he hadn't made the same mistake twice in one day.

Ally cleared her throat and gave Dez a small smile. "Uh, I don't see or hear from her much now days. She…we don't speak much to each other."

"Ally," Austin whispered.

His wife nodded and glanced at a teary-eyed Dez. "Don't be upset, Dez. You didn't offend me."

Her mother was alive, but he still felt like a huge jerk. "I talk too much sometimes," Dez said, poking the ground with his shovel.

"No, no. I can tell you care about people. We just met, and I'm already really happy you're here," Ally said warmly. Dez wrapped her in a hug. "And you're a hugger," she choked out.

He released her and waved his hand. "You two are nicest people ever. Get out of here; you shovel poop all the time. Let me handle it this time."

Ally shook her head and patted Dez's arm. "We couldn't ask you to do that."

"Yeah, dude," Austin added.

"It'll be fun! Maybe. Probably not. But it'll be a great way to earn trust with the horses, so I can film them later."

"Cool, you make films?" Austin asked.

"Yeah! Now go ahead, you crazy kids. Let farmer Dez handle this."

Austin tossed his shovel to the side. "Thanks, man!"

Ally picked up her husband's shovel and placed it with her own. "Thank you so much, Dez."

Dez waved at the retreating couple then smiled down at the lump of poo in front of him. "Ew," he said through his smile.

* * *

Ally placed a plate of chicken on the table while Austin brought over a big bowl of kale salad. They sat down and shared an amused look before smiling at the bright pink Dez across from them.

"Did you overlook the bottle of sunscreen I put in your room this morning, Dez?" Ally asked. Austin snorted and bit his lip.

"I was distracted by all the stuffed bears," Dez admitted. "You've got a great collection." The trio laughed. "It actually hurts to laugh," Dez said but continued to chuckle.

"We have ointment. Ally burns all the time."

"Hey, not as often. Anymore. We can't all tan, Austin." Ally smoothed her palm over her arm. "The dream."

The group laughed again. "You guys are so fun," Dez said as he piled food onto his plate. He shoveled a spoon into his salad bowl, but then looked up with his brows furrowed. "I feel like I'm forgetting something."

"You can't eat salad with a spoon?" Austin asked.

"No, that's not it."

"Grace?" Ally suggested.

Dez glanced over at the empty chair beside him and frowned. "Sort of," Dez picked up his plate and stood. "I'll be right back." Before Austin and Ally could respond, he ran out of the room.

* * *

On her bed, Trish huddled against the headboard. She rubbed her red eyes with her palms and sniffled. Streaks from the setting sun peaked over the wardrobe that she had moved to block the window.

Someone knocked on the other side of the door.

Trish grabbed a shirt out of her bag and wiped her face. "Hold your horses!" She rubbed her cheeks and made a stern grimace in the vanity mirror. For a second, her face softened and she moved her lips to the side.

The knocking continued.

Trish hardened her look and moved towards the door. She opened it and saw Dez holding a plate of chicken.

"That's funny because Austin and Ally do have horses," Dez said.

She immediately slammed the door in his face.

He knocked again.

Trish opened the door and leaned against the frame. "I thought you weren't talking to me," she said.

"I changed my mind because now I am happy and not even you can spoil it," he said.

"Oh yeah, you're Mr. Popular now with your two new boring friends. Good job making them hate me by the way. Didn't know you were the resident countryside mean girl."

Dez rolled his eyes and huffed. "We meet some genuine people that you can't buy off or boss around and you throw a hissy fit?"

"Gee, thanks for the pep talk, Freckles."

Trish lifted herself from the door frame and stepped backward into the room. She clasped the knob, but Dez blocked the entrance.

"Look, I don't want to fight any more. Here, take my chicken. Ally said you haven't been out of this room the whole day. I know you're hungry," Dez said.

"I am not hungry," Trish argued at the same moment her stomach gave a loud rumble. "Must be bears," she mumbled.

"Then the bears can have my chicken," Dez said as he walked into the room. He put the plate on her vanity and noticed the wardrobe blocking the window. "That's actually a good idea. I like to sleep in too, but all that sunshine pouring in doesn't make it easy."

Trish wanted to kick him out, but when she opened her mouth she voiced a different thought. "Why are you so pink?"

Dez poked his arm and winced. "Sunburn." He flexed and pointed to his thin arm. "But I'm going to be ripped by the end of the summer. Shoveling horse doo."

She chuckled for a second then cleared her throat. "I don't know what that means, weirdo. But that explains why you smell like an outhouse."

"I took a shower," Dez said and plugged his nose, "which is more than I can say for you. It's been two days since your last shower; you might want to fix that."

"Get out," Trish said in a flat tone.

He shrugged and walked into the hall. "Uh, Trish?"

Trish crossed her arms in front of her and forced a groan, "What, Freckles?"

"I'm still mad at you about Carrie. But don't cry anymore. Everything's going to be okay." He smiled and walked down the hall.

She ran up to the door and called out, "You promised not to help me anymore!"

"I lied! Eat your chicken!" Dez shouted back as he disappeared around the corner.

"You very much confuse me, Dez," she whispered to the empty hall.

* * *

Trish jumped as a wooden bird popped through the doors of a large chiming cuckoo clock. She pressed her hand against her chest and exhaled. "Stupid antique."

It was midnight and she supposed everyone had long since went to bed. She sniffed her pits then gagged at the smell. _Freckles wasn't wrong_ she thought. _Shower time_. She stood from the stool at the vanity and grabbed some pajamas from her bag.

Opening the door just a little, she peeped into the hallway. _Coast is clear_ she thought. She tip-toed out of the bedroom and tried the first door on her right. _That's the one with just a toilet_. She tried another door. _Wait, I hear breathing—bedroom. Maybe the shower is downstairs?_

"That's stupid," she grumbled.

She climbed down the spiraling stairs that led to the den. _I know the kitchen is down that way, so I should go this way. _She passed a large sunroom with nice patio furniture; a small library with leather seats and a few more guest rooms. _All of this stuff and I can't get a California kind bed? Or a bathroom with a shower? Come on! _Trish titled her head back in frustration and dangled her arms to the side. But then she heard something: music. A melody drifted into the hall and pulled her towards the far end of the passage way. The door was cracked just enough to peek inside. So Trish peeked.

Instruments of all sorts were displayed artfully on sleek black shelves. A grand piano dominated the space, and seated on the bench behind it was Ally.

"Whoa," Trish whispered. Unfortunately, she leaned too hard against the door and fell into the room.

Ally jerked back from the keys and leaned over to see what happened. "Trish?"

"Where's the shower," Trish asked casually from her position on the floor, trying to hide her embarrassment.

Ally walked over and helped Trish up. "Beside your bedroom. Turn right instead of left next time."

"Oh."

They stood there and awkwardly looked at each other. "Alright then," Ally said, breaking the silence. She walked back to the bench and sat down. Trish turned to leave when Ally spoke up. "Do you play? The piano?"

"No. And I don't play any other instrument, so you don't have to bother asking." Trish smirked with her back to Ally. _Respond to that, Miss Thinks She's Perfect_ Trish thought.

"Alright then." Ally shrugged, stretched her fingers, and began to play another beautiful piece.

Trish whipped around and glared at the girl.

Ally glanced up from the keys but continued to play as she said, "Something on your mind, Trish?"

"Um, hello, I wear designer shoes. I drive a Porsche! Every girl I know wants to be my friend." Trish stomped her foot. "Yet you chewed me out this morning like I'm some little kid, and you have the nerve to like the doof-o-saur more than me."

"You're not in Miami anymore. Here, your attitude and the way you treat people are the only influences you have to make friends. While your family is in hiding, your life starts from scratch. It's time to start over." Ally closed her eyes and played louder, losing herself in the music.

Trish watched the young woman in front of her. She felt the tension from her scowl loosen. Her hard look softened to one of confusion and she tugged on the hem of her pajamas. This was new. And uncomfortable.

"It's weird to have a bedroom sandwiched between bathrooms," Trish shouted over the music.

"It's weirder to be mean when you can be nice," Ally sang in response. "There are towels in the closet across from your room."

"Okay," Trish sang back, but it came out raspy and half-hearted and awkward. She swallowed her embarrassment and left. _I should have taken my chances in the forest. _


	5. Chapter 5

Dez kicked his feet up on the wooden bench and relaxed beneath the shade of a large tree not far from the horse pasture. He opened the display of his camcorder and looked down at the small screen. A video of Carrie played.

_The shot was zoomed in so that Carrie's blonde tresses reached the outer edges of the camcorder's screen. Her pretty face was creased with laughter._

"_I'm telling you! Kangaroos are not to be messed with," Dez's voice rang in the video. He, as always, was recording the video. _

_Carrie nodded and her laughter settled down. _

"_Hey, Carrie, tell me something," Dez said off camera._

"S_omething," Carrie said seriously. _

"_No, I mean something true." _

"_Oh, okay. Something true." _

"_Oh Carrie. You're a hoot." _

_Carrie giggled and pointed at the camera. "I like that you use words like 'hoot.' Not many people say hoot."_

"_B__eing like not many people is sort of my specialty."_

"_Me too!" Carrie bounced, making her hair bounce too. "We should be special together!"_

_The image wobbled from the cameraman jumping up and down. "Really? You mean it!"_

"_No, Dezzy. I nice it!" The camera steadied. "You are my best friend!" Carrie declared._

Under the tree's shade, Dez pressed a button on the camcorder and the audio played back. _"You are my best friend!"_ He hit the button again. _"You are my best friend!"_

Austin jogged up to Dez and sat down. "Who is that," Austin asked, leaning over Dez's shoulder to see the screen.

"Just a girl."

"She's cute. That your girlfriend?"

Dez shook his head. "No. We didn't really have a chance to get to know each other. Uh, she got into a different crowd."

"Huh, too bad."

"Yeah," Dez wiped his nose with the back of his hand, "too bad."

Austin stood up and said, "Hey, I wanted to know if you knew anything about floral arrangements. But now that I think about it, that's a pretty weird question. Sorry."

"What!" Dez said, hopping up and holding out his hands. "I love floral arrangements! My mom really got into bouquet designs a few summers ago. My sister refused to help her so mom made me be her assistant and I loved it."

"Awesome! Ally wants to try selling floral decorations because it is wedding season."

"The flowers in your garden will be perfect for that."

"Sick. I knew I had gardening skills! Ally is going to be so happy. Thanks, man."

Dez smiled wide and waved his hand. "Oh, it's nothing."

"Let's go get some breakfast," Austin said.

* * *

Ally smeared a spoonful of jelly across Austin's face and chuckled. She, Austin, and Dez sat at the kitchen island with their breakfast. Two French toast sticks stuck out of Dez's mouth while he clapped his hands and barked like a walrus.

"We really should stop goofing off. I would be so embarrassed if we were in public," Ally said while laughing.

"But we're not in public," Austin replied. He scooped oatmeal out of his bowl with his finger then dolloped it onto Ally's nose.

"And the finishing touch," Dez said as he stuck a spoon onto Ally's nose.

The group burst into laughter.

So, once again, Trish walked into a kitchen full of laughter. But she did not cheer and she did not laugh. She grabbed a bowl from beside the stove, lumped in a spoonful of oatmeal, and sat alone at the kitchen table. A blue bird fluttered out on the patio and Trish watched it from the French doors.

The group's laughter settled down and they ate quietly. Dez glanced at Trish from the corner of his eye and saw that she was still staring out the window. He remembered the last time he sat at a kitchen table, with a bowl of undesirable breakfast food, and stared out the window.

"You look like me," Dez said. He was now looking directly at Trish.

She moved her gaze from the blue bird to Dez's blue eyes. "Excuse me," she asked in a flat tone.

"The day we were attacked. That morning. I sat at my table and stared at your house through my window."

"Ew, what?" Trish replied. "Stalker much?"

"No, I was watching your dad," Dez explained.

"That's weirder, dude," Austin chimed in. Ally swatted her husband with her hand.

"I mean, I saw him leaving," Dez said quickly.

"Oh," Trish said. She stirred her oatmeal and looked down at the brown mush. "Did he look okay?"

"Um, yeah. He was in a hurry, but he was okay."

Trish made eye contact with Dez. "Thanks. I'm glad." She shifted her eyes to Ally and added harshly, "I care about him and the rest of my family." She eyed her oatmeal and said, "And yours, Freckles."

Dez sat motionless as he processed Trish being kind of nice to him. Ally remained silent, but smiled a little.

Austin scratched his head and whispered to his wife, "She has a pet name for him?"

"She's trying," Ally whispered back.

Austin still didn't get it, so he just shrugged and took the spoon off of Ally's nose.

* * *

Trish sat at the vanity and brushed her long, curly hair. Open compacts of foundation, eyeshadow, and lip gloss tubes cluttered the table, but Trish's face wasn't laden with makeup. Only pink gloss shined on her lips and light powder dusted her cheeks.

A knock on the door made her stop brushing. "Come in, I guess," Trish called out.

Ally opened the door and peeked in. "Have you seen my mascara?" Ally asked.

Trish searched the table and lifted a black tube. "Sorry, borrowed a few things. Thought I might test out a few looks."

Ally walked in and took the tube. She leaned in to look in the mirror as she applied a few streaks of mascara. "No prob. Help yourself. This stuff is fantastic, though. I sweat a lot when I'm working outside, so I need a heavy-duty mascara."

Ally handed Trish the tube then stood up straight.

"Cool," Trish responded, not really knowing what else to say.

Ally nodded, "Cool."

The caretaker headed for the door but Trish called out for her. "Ally!"

Ally turned back to her.

Trish twirled her hair and shrugged. "I mean, Ally," she said in a more chill tone.

"So you do know my name?" Ally teased.

Trish shrugged. "It's one of my tests."

"I'm not sure I want to know what that means."

"It's a Marino High School thing."

"I don't think I'd like your high school very much."

Trish moved to the bed and sat on it with her legs folded.

"Speaking of high school, how old are you, exactly?"

Ally kicked off her shoes, sat on the bed, and mirrored Trish's position. "Eighteen."

"So, you're a senior? Like me."

"Actually, I graduated early."

"Oh, last semester?"

Ally tilted her head. "More like two years ago."

"You graduated high school at sixteen? What, are you some sort of weirdo genius?"

Ally chuckled and shook her head. "No, I just really love to learn. I was so enthusiastic about school; I had taken enough credits to graduate early, though that wasn't my plan. More like a blessing I wasn't aware of yet."

"Yeah, cause school is such a blessing," Trish said sarcastically. "We are two very different girls, Ally."

Ally raised her shoulders. "Who knows? Opposites attract."

"I've seen your crazy-hot husband, so I'll take your word on attraction."

Ally wagged her finger at Trish. "Don't be flirting with my husband, Trish."

Trish raised her palms in surrender. "I won't…anymore." She picked at a thread on the blanket. "I'm still confused, though. You're a genius, some sort of Mozart prodigy, and you're decent looking."

"Gee, thanks."

"Why are you playing Farmer Sue in the boonies? I mean, you could be a scientist or a famous piano player. Why are you," Trish waved her arms around the room, "here?"

Ally frowned. She lay across the bed and propped her head up with her fist. "You sound like my mother," Ally said in a low tone.

"Then it's déjà vu because you pulled off Maria Del a Rosa when you freaked on me _twice_ yesterday."

"I got married," Ally said simply and shrugged.

"I don't follow."

"I made a choice. Austin's parents owned this huge house and the inn and all this land, and when they died, Austin inherited everything."

"Still not following."

"A seventeen-year-old kid can't financially run an estate. So, I did some research and applied the location for a government hide out as part of the witness protection program. The property was selected but two conditions needed to be met: Austin had to wait until he was eighteen to receive his first assignment and he needed a partner. Marriage is one of the oldest and most stable forms of partnership."

Trish frowned. "That sounds stupid."

Ally sat up and swung her legs over the bed. "Marriage reflects stability, which puts the people we take care of at ease, theoretically. You and Dez are our first assignment. But studies show that married couples handle stressful environments better and couples process sensitive information as a team more efficiently than two people who just work together. I couldn't let him do it alone."

"I disagree. I was married for an entire plane ride and it was awful," Trish replied. Her stomach rumbled. "I'm still kind of fuzzy on the farm life details, but I'm starving."

Ally stood up and smiled. "We have plenty of time to talk about 'farm life.' Come on, I'll make you lunch."

* * *

Trish stood wedged between her wardrobe and the bedroom window. The night air tried its best to be cool, but the humidity over powered it. Trish fanned herself angrily.

Austin had insisted the temperature outside was low enough to warrant natural cooling instead of air conditioning. But her frizzy hair disagreed. It was pulled back into a messy bun with curls escaping and sticking to the sides of her sweaty face.

"This is misery," Trish groaned.

Stars, fireflies, and lights from the barn broke up the darkness that covered the land outside her window. She started to count the bugs that pulsed yellow light.

"One. Two. Not a firefly. Three. Four. Five. I miss my cellphone. Six. Seven..." Trish trailed off when she noticed a bright ball of light in the distance. It moved closer and closer until Trish could see the thin outline of a figure carrying the ball of light.

She stumbled away from the window and fell on the floor. Memories of the dense forest and lady hunter pounded against her skull.

"Ally," Trish choked out.

No one came in the room.

Trish crawled back to the window and peeked around the wardrobe.

The light was closer now. And she could see the hooded intruder coming straight for the house.


	6. Chapter 6

Trish skipped every third stair until she came into the den.

"Ally," Trish whispered, creeping through the den with her back pressed against the wall.

She clutched the stuffed dolphin in her hands when she reached the kitchen, and then ducked down to crawl into the room. Crouched behind the counter, she could see the hooded figure walking up to the French doors with the ball of light.

With the figure closer up, she saw the broad shoulders and unshapely hips of the person.

_So the lady hunter is not ruled out,_ Trish thought.

The person opened the door and walked through with the ball of light.

_Some caretakers! They just leave the kitchen door unlocked when there are people out there trying to kill me!_

Trish leapt up from behind the kitchen and let out a battle cry.

The person shrieked right before Trish swung the dolphin, knocking the ball of light and sending it crashing against the tiled floor. She jabbed her knee into the person's crotch then rammed into him with her shoulder to knock the person to the floor. She straddled the creeper and wielded her dolphin.

"Where's my family, you jerk!"

"Stop! Please!" the person shouted between smacks.

Ally flipped on the kitchen lights and she and Dez ran in. Ally wore a sundress even though it was the middle of the night and Dez had on shorts and a tank top.

"Trish! What are you doing?" Ally shouted.

"You made me leave my car!" Trish yelled as she continued beating the man.

"Please make it stop," the man cried.

The hood fell off and revealed a man with chubby cheeks stained with tears.

"Dad?" Ally said, rushing over to him and Trish.

Dez wrapped his arms around Trish's waist and pulled her off the man on the ground. Ally helped the man up.

"Hands off," Trish grumbled, shooing away Dez's hands. She turned to Ally and the man. "You know this guy?"

Ally put her hand on her father's shoulder and checked his face for stuffed animal bruises.

"Dad, what are doing here?"

"Getting beat up by your assignment, apparently," the man said. He crossed his hands over his pants and asked, "Do you have any frozen vegetables?"

Ally nodded and led him to a kitchen chair.

"Why'd you hurt Ally's dad, Trish?" Dez said.

"Shut up. I'm not the guilty party this time. This guy was creeping around in all black with a magic ball of light," Trish shouted.

Ally handed her father a bag of frozen peas. "Magic ball of light?"

"New technology developed by the team from Miami. The power core is what caused the glow. It was actually," Ally's father began, but was cut off by Dez.

"Great job, Trish. You destroyed magic!"

"Excuse me for being afraid of some jerk trying to kill me after a weekend full of jerks trying to kill me!"

"Enough, you two. Please, just go wait for me in the den," Ally instructed.

Dez and Trish opened their mouths to protest but Ally gave them a stern look.

"Fine," Trish grumbled. She picked up her fluffy weapon. "But I'm keeping the dolphin."

"Bye, Mr. Uh Ally's Dad," Dez said.

Her father lifted the peas from his pants to his forehead and said, "Dawson."

"Bye, Mr. Dawson," Dez said before following Trish out of the kitchen.

* * *

Trish and Dez sat on opposite ends of the largest couch in the now well-lit den. She held the dolphin in her lap and sighed impatiently.

"It is so hot in this house," she said.

She tilted her head back against the couch and turned her eyes to Dez. His hair was damp and his pale arms shinned with sweat. Trish just now noticed the bagpipes slung over his shoulder.

"I probably shouldn't ask, but what were you doing?" Trish asked.

Dez wiggled the instrument and said, "Ally was about to teach me. We're pretty tight; she took me to her secret music room."

"Well I've already been in Ally's secret music room," Trish said, lifting her head from the couch.

"No you haven't. You're just jealous that Austin and Ally are my friends and now I'm the popular one and you're the loser with no friends."

"Good job, freckles. You just called yourself a loser with no friends. I don't even have to insult you; you do the work for me."

Dez crossed his arms, squishing the bagpipe in his pit, and said, "Jealous. And you have not been in Ally's secret music…"

"There's a huge piano in it and a cute purple rug."

"I wouldn't say it was a cute rug," Dez pouted. "Why'd she show you first?"

Trish rolled her eyes.

"Poke your lip back in, you big baby. I found it by accident. She didn't show me. Your lame caretakers still like you better than me. Woo hoo."

Dez uncrossed his arms and took off his instrument.

"Good. And they are your caretakers too."

"Mr. Dawson is nursing his peas right now. I can take care of myself."

Dez chuckled and Trish couldn't help but laugh a little too.

He scooted closer to Trish's side of the couch and said, "I'm glad you admitted it."

Trish put the dolphin down between them, making a barrier even though he wasn't that close.

"Admitted what?"

"That you're afraid. It makes you seem more human."

Trish narrowed her eyebrows and picked the dolphin back up.

"Don't make me use this, freckles."

Dez pointed his finger at Trish and raised his brow.

"Don't make me take that away, sweat drop."

Austin walked in behind the couch and said, "Dude, we have to work on your pet names."

Dez yelped, jumped to the side, and nearly squished Trish into the corner of the couch.

"Get off, scaredy-cat," Trish mumbled and pushed Dez away. "You take being afraid to the next level."

Austin chuckled and bit off the slice of pizza in his hand.

"What are you laughing at, blondie? Where have you been? I was nearly killed by Ally's weird dad."

"Pizza," Austin said between chews.

"In the middle of the night?" Dez asked.

"Dude, pizza," Austin repeated.

"Good point," Dez nodded.

Trish stood up then snatched the dolphin and Austin's pizza.

"I'm going to bed," Trish said. She pointed the dolphin at Austin, "You, turn on some air conditioning or your assignments are going to be dead by morning. Shesh, we're melting." She took a bite of pizza and then pointed the crust at Dez. "You, walk me to my room."

Dez grinned and said, "Cause you're still a little scared, huh."

"Never mind, stay here," Trish said before taking the stairs two at a time.

Austin hoped over the back of the couch and sat beside Dez.

"Mr. Dawson is here?" He asked Dez.

"Yeah, Ally kicked us out. It must be important."

Austin nodded. "I better go check it out then. And I guess turn on the air conditioning. Can't have you melting," he joked.

Austin stood but Dez gripped his arm.

"Hey, um, I know we are all still getting to know each other and it's part of your super cool farmer spy job to take care of me and Trish, but would you keep me in the loop about our families. If Mr. Dawson is here to tell you guys something is wrong, please don't keep it a secret."

Austin patted Dez's hand and gave him a gentle smile, but didn't say anything.

Dez let go and let Austin walk into the kitchen.

"The last thing I need is more secrets," Dez said to himself.


	7. Chapter 7

Trish woke up with her limbs stretched out across the bed. Cool air pumped out of the vents. Her hair was still a mess, but no longer sweaty. She rolled over and wiggled her toes.

"Time for a pedicure," she said to herself.

She smacked her lips and looked around the bedroom. It was a quarter of the size of her own room back home and not at all her style. The walls were plain, painted a pale yellow. The vanity was antique, brown. The drapes were white and thin.

"Not that I'm getting one here," she grumbled.

The girl hopped out of the bed and her stomach let out a fierce growl. She tapped her fingers on her pajamas as she looked into the mirror across from her. She had traded her bottoms with the cupcake print for faded black shorts before Austin switched on the air conditioning last night, and she wore an old Miami Heat t-shirt that she had stolen from an ex-boyfriend.

_Do I really need to get dressed for breakfast? _She thought. _Nope. It's not like there's anyone down there to impress._

She fought her hair into a ponytail then headed down the stairs.

_I hope there are pancakes. Or bagels. Or anything! I am starving!_

As she walked down the hall she heard hushed voices in the kitchen. She stopped before the entrance and leaned her ear closer to the doorframe.

"Ally, come on!"

"Austin, Ally knows this is what's best."

"But I promised to keep him in the loop, Mr. Dawson."

"Honey, my dad is right. Dez has already been through so much."

"This is ridiculous!"

"Don't you think I know that, Austin! I care about him too."

"Everyone just calm down…You two have to follow the rules. I'm sorry."

"But it's his sister!"

Trish leaned her body against the wall as Austin stormed out of the kitchen. He didn't seem to notice her. But Trish noticed the way his hands were clenched into fists and his cheeks were burning red.

"What's going on?"

Ally's palms were pressed on the countertop and she stared down into the green liquid in her teacup. Mr. Dawson held a cookie in his hand at the round kitchen table.

They both looked over at Trish when she spoke.

"What's going on with Dez's sister?" Trish repeated the question.

Ally lowered her big, brown eyes to gaze at the floor tile.

"You can't have cookies for breakfast, Dad. Trish, there are muffins in that basket," Ally said, pointing to a brown basket full of muffins by the stove.

"Ally, answer my question," Trish said, stepping farther into the kitchen.

Ally still wouldn't meet Trish's eyes. She rushed past the girl, mumbling, "I can't do this," as she passed.

Trish turned to look at Mr. Dawson. He had put the cookie down and covered his face with his hands.

"Tell me what is…" Trish started, feeling her chest tighten with anxiety and her face heat with impatience.

"Good morning, all!" Dez said happily from the doorframe.

He had a big grin on his face to match the smiley face graphic on his tie-dye shirt.

At that moment, Mr. Dawson's phone rang and he hurriedly excused himself and left the kitchen.

"Yum, muffins," Dez said, picking out a small plate from the cabinet and loading it up with blueberry muffins.

Trish stood frozen, unsure of what to make of everything she overheard.

Dez bit into a muffin and stared down at the girl.

"You don't look so good," Dez said. Crumbs fell on his shirt.

The girl snapped out of her thoughts and looked down at her pajamas.

"I don't have to get dressed up for breakfast, jerk," she said, tugging her shirt over her shorts.

Dez licked blueberry off his thumb and said, "I mean your face. You look upset."

Trish sighed, threw her head back, and said, "I shouldn't haven't to deal with this kind of stuff in the morning!"

She blew out a breath then motioned for Dez to follow her to the round table. The boy sat across from her and offered her the cookie Mr. Dawson had left on the table, which she refused.

"Freckles, look. I have to tell you something about Austin and Ally, and you can't freak out."

Dez stopped munching on his muffins and said, "Trish, if this about the bathroom. I already know."

Trish tilted her head to the side and asked, "What are you talking about?"

He reached his hand across the table and patted her shoulder.

"They don't spring for the good toilet paper. I know the stuff they have in the guest bathroom is practically sandpaper, but they're our friends."

"No, stupid," Trish said, shrugging his hand off her shoulder. She scooted her chair closer to him and explained, "They are hiding something from us. Mr. Dawson won't let them tell us something really important…about our families. They are not our friends, Freckles."

Dez leaned away from Trish and furrowed his eyebrows.

"Why do you have to take everything away from me?" He said.

"I'm not," Trish started, but Dez cut her off.

"First you stopped being my friend in middle school, then you picked on me in high school and took away Carrie. Now this?" Dez said, standing up and glaring down at her.

"Listen to me, Dez," Trish tried again, but Dez shook his head and stomped out of the kitchen.

"Just leave me alone for good!" He shouted as he left.

* * *

Trish looked all over the large house, but found no signs of Austin or Ally or Mr. Dawson. In her frustration, she gave up looking and opted for a shower instead, wanting to wash off the sweat from the summer night's heat. After her shower, she realized she was still starving since the morning drama left her without breakfast.

She made a turkey sandwich and decided to eat outside.

_I'm going crazy in that house _she thought.

There was a bench she could see from her bedroom window that she wanted to check out.

As she walked to the bench, she saw Mr. Dawson sitting there with a glass of lemonade. She debated turning back, but was too stubborn to leave her choice spot.

"I want to sit here and eat lunch," Trish said awkwardly.

Mr. Dawson didn't say anything, just slid over and made room for the girl to sit.

They both stared out at the mountains in the distance while Trish ate.

"Good job avoiding me all day," Trish said.

Mr. Dawson picked lint from his button up and said, "You ask too many question that I can't answer, young lady." He cleared his throat, "Plus, you scare me a little. I'm still a little achy from that greeting you gave me."

"Not a greeting. I beat you up," Trish chuckled.

"Yes, you did."

"All of this is really crazy, Mr. D," Trish said seriously. She put her hands in her lap and looked down at them. "I'm not supposed to be playing 'Little House on the Prairie' with your daughter. I should be throwing pool parties, driving my car, shopping."

She looked up at Mr. Dawson and added, "And Dez's sister should be too."

Mr. Dawson groaned and rubbed his temples with his thumb and forefinger.

"No," he whined. "This job comes with such good dental benefits. And the retirement plan. Ugh, listen. I'm not supposed to do this. And you have to respect Ally and Austin's job. If they can't tell you something, they just can't…"

Trish looked up at Mr. Dawson with her dark eyes wide.

"Alright. Go on," she prodded.

"My department is keeping a close eye on your family," Mr. Dawson began, pulling his hand away from his face, "And an even closer eye on your adversaries. I don't know how long you all will remain in hiding, but we are working as hard as we can. But I promise you, Didi will be safe."

"Is that all you can tell me," Trish sighed.

Mr. Dawson didn't say anything more. He gave her a weak smile and his phone rang again.

"Enjoy your lunch," he told her before he got up and left.

"Thanks," she murmured.

* * *

Trish decided to spend the rest of the day in her assigned bedroom. She had run into Austin and Ally earlier in the sunroom, but the tension in the air was too much. Obviously, the couple was still angry with each other and they didn't seem too excited to have her around. She had seen Dez in the den too, but he left as soon as she walked in.

She painted her nails. She painted her toenails. She removed the paint. She painted again.

At night, she lay in bed and stared at the high ceiling. Thoughts of Didi played in her mind. Didi was two years younger than Trish and Dez, and the complete opposite of her brother. She was popular and considered fashionable at Marino High. Her long, thin legs and bright, red hair guaranteed her a date for all of Trish's parties, the ones Trish would have on long weekends when her parents were away visiting her abuelos. But Didi was also funny, and loyal, and friendly, a free spirit like her brother.

Trish remembered when she was ten and Didi was eight and they both wanted Dez to push them on the swings in the playground down the street from their neighborhood. Even then, Dez had long limbs. He ran back and forth to push both girls, making it each time as the swings swung backward. All three of them laughed until their stomachs hurt. Unfortunately, Didi clutched her stomach during the laughter and fell off her swing.

The little girl cried in her big brother's arms as he rocked her back and forth and Trish inspected her booboo. It was just a little scrape. No blood, just red irritated skin near the elbow. Trish said as much, but Didi continued to cry and cling onto her brother.

And then he did it. Over seven years later, thousands of miles from the only home she had known, Trish still remembered the feeling she got when she watched Dez kiss his little sister's bruised elbow and Didi's tears promptly ceased. Warmth and security washed over her, as if she could feel the love radiating off the siblings in front of her.

_"But it's his sister," _Austin's angry words rang in her head.

Trish didn't sleep at all that night.

* * *

"So, you're just not going to come to bed," Ally said.

A stack of pillows was propped behind her back as she sat in the bed. She pulled the blanket over her torso and crossed her arms as she stared at her husband.

Austin didn't respond. His legs were stretched out on the seat in the bay window, and he looked out the glass to the stables. There were tons of stars twinkling above them and he could make out the outlines of trees in the moonlight.

"My mom and dad met at a summer camp. So they were always big on star gazing, which meant I was big on star gazing," Austin said quietly. "Sometimes I think it's not fair that those same stars get to be up in the sky, but people aren't allowed to stay and watch them from down here."

Ally hung her head low and fiddled with her thumbs. Her husband turned his head from the window and his eyes traced over every detail of her face.

"I love you, Ally. And you've done so much for me. I could never make you as happy as you make me. But I feel wrong keeping things from Dez," Austin said.

"It's our job, Austin," Ally said quietly, still not looking up from her hands.

"I know. It's just, I know what it's like to lose family."

Ally shot her head up and said, "And I don't?"

"That's not what I'm saying," Austin said, getting up from the window and sitting on the edge of the bed. "You know that's not what I'm saying."

She nodded and bit the bottom of her lip. Her hands stopped fidgeting and she slid one across the blanket and intertwined her fingers with his. Austin lifted her hand to his lips.

"No longer mad," he said before pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

She smiled and said, "No longer mad."

He squeezed her hand and swallowed, asking, "But what are we going to do?"

"Honestly, I don't know. But things will work out," Ally said.

She lifted the blanket and scooted over.

"Now, come to bed."

* * *

"Wake up, Freckles!"

Dez yelped at the shout and tumbled off his bed, taking the blanket and stuffed bear with him.

"Ugh," he groaned, lifting his head off the floor.

He looked around the room and saw that it was mostly dark but had a weird orange glow from the slowly rising sun. Trish stood above him with her hands on her hips. Her curly hair was down and she had on the pajamas from the morning before.

He eyed her legs in the black shorts then turned his face away and said, "Go away, Trish. I'm mad at you; I think. It's too early."

He began to drift back to sleep but Trish bent down and shook his shoulders.

"Dez! It's important!"

_When she says my name, _the thought bounced around in his sleepy brain.

Her hair tickled his face as he shifted back to face her.

"What is it?" he whined.

She stepped away and demanded he get up. So, of course, he stood up, swaying a bit, and pouted.

"This better be…" he started, but Trish grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the bedroom.

* * *

Austin was drooling right above Ally's head, and Ally was snoring right into Austin's chest when their bedroom door was flung open.

"Tell Dez the truth! Right now!"

The Moons woke up, stretching and grumbling. They both propped themselves up on their elbows and with half-closed eyes glared at the intruders.

Trish was in the doorway, still latched onto Dez's wrist.

"Go on," Trish said. "Tell him."


	8. Chapter 8

Dez stopped rubbing the crust out of his eye and let his arm fall to his side. He stared at Austin and Ally and his mouth hung open.

"What's wrong with my sister?" Dez asked, his voice cracking.

His eyes felt weird because of the tears threatening to spill, and his chest felt tight.

"Mr. Dawson told Austin and Ally not to tell you that Didi isn't safe," he heard Trish say beside him.

"Ally, Austin, tell me," Dez said, raising his voice. "Please!"

Ally stared down at her hands. She had them folded on top of the blanket on her lap and her back was pressed against their headboard. Her hair wasn't nearly as messy as Austin's but it was enough to cover her face as she bowed her head.

"It's important to all of your safety if some information is kept confidential," Ally said, firmly but still not looking up from her slender fingers.

Austin's sorrowful big brown eyes locked with Dez's teary blue ones. The redhead looked so betrayed staring at his caretakers.

"Man…Dez, I…" Austin started and stopped.

Closing his eyes, Austin pulled his fingers through his rats' nest of blond hair.

"Didi is," he started, but Mr. Dawson ran into the room behind Trish and Dez and finished Austin's sentence.

"Fine!" Mr. Dawson said, gripping the doorframe and grinning.

"What?" Austin and Ally said at the same time.

Trish puffed her out her cheeks in frustration, glared at the man, and said, "Stop lying to us. I know something is going on. Tell him."

Mr. Dawson stepped between Trish and Dez and clasped them on the shoulders.

"I just got confirmation that Didi Wade is safe again. Her captors were found a few hours ago and Didi and Jay have been relocated to a remote safe-house where an incident like this won't happen again," Mr. Dawson explained.

Dez gasped and took a step back from the man as tears ran down his flushed cheeks.

"My sister was kidnapped! And you guys didn't tell me! You are supposed to be keeping us safe! My family is supposed to be safe!"

"Dude," Austin said softly from his spot beside Ally.

"Dez," Ally added, finally looking up at him.

"I can't do this," Dez said, holding up his hands and running out of the bedroom.

Everyone gaped at the door for a moment before Mr. Dawson looked down at Trish.

He gently patted her shoulder and said, "She's safe. This will not happen again."

Trish swallowed the lump in her throat and said through clenched teeth, "It better not."

She stormed out of the room, but not before taking another look at Austin and Ally. Ally's eyes were glossy and Austin's shoulders were slumped, but their fingers were tightly interlaced on Ally's lap.

* * *

Dez sprawled out on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. Orange light from the setting sun streamed into the room.

Not long ago, Dez wondered what Trish did all alone for all of those hours when she would hide away in her guest room. He hiding himself was not something he had imagined. He had been looking forward to spending more time with his new friends and learning about them. Austin and Ally, the cool farmer spies that babysat pigs and played exotic instruments. Or the jerks who didn't tell him his little sister had been kidnapped. He and Trish had faced those lunatics that blew up his house and tried to kill him on the plane; how can he rest knowing his sister was with them?

"Can I come in?"

Dez sat up at the sound of Ally's voice from the other side of the closed bedroom door. He stared at the door with his lips tightly shut. He crossed his arms over his chest and shifted his eyes to the window as the door was gently opened.

"Please," Ally said, peeking her head around the door.

He shrugged his shoulders but refused to look at her as she quietly stepped in. She stood at the foot of his bed for a moment, holding a bowl of sliced fruits.

"You haven't eaten all day, and I know you love fruit," Ally said, lifting the bowl.

"You don't know anything about me," Dez said, watching a moth flutter by outside.

"I know you love fruit. Mainly because you've said almost every day since you've been here, 'I love fruit' and 'Can I touch that?'" Ally said.

"And you always say no," Dez said, turning his head to her.

"You don't know how to use a table saw."

"Fair enough. But I'm still not happy with you."

Ally placed the bowl on his bed and said, "I know. And I understand. But don't be mad at Austin. He wanted to tell you as soon as he knew about your sister, but I wouldn't let him. It was my fault."

Dez's hardened look soften when Ally closed the door behind her. He blew air out his nostrils and fell back against the mattress.

_Is this what it's like to be angry all the time? Trish must be exhausted, _Dez thought.

"I can't believe she was the only one being honest with me," Dez said aloud. "I didn't believe she was being honest."

His door was flung open and he lifted his head to see who was coming into his room.

"I figured she would bring you food," Trish said, kicking the door shut behind her.

She plopped down on the bed and put the bowl in her lap. Dez sat up again and crossed his legs.

"That's why I didn't bring you any food even though you've been holed up in this room all day," Trish said. She munched on an apple slice and added, "I'm going to eat your snack, though."

Dez took the collar of his shirt and tried to wipe the dried snot and tears from his face with the inside fabric. He flattened his hair with hands and licked his chapped lips.

"Keep being their friend," Trish said, holding out an orange slice to him.

He took the slice and held it in his hand, saying "I'm confused by your actions but I'm too hungry and sleepy to think."

"And your excuse for not thinking the rest of the time?"

"That seems more like you," Dez said, biting into the orange slice.

He chewed and reached into the bowl for more.

"Why should I be their friend? They lied to me."

"I'm not saying hang onto their every word, and I still think we should both be on our guard. But I saw them when you ran out this morning. They never meant to hurt you. Ugh, it's so annoying; they've been moping around all day. When I had my tantrums, all you dips did were joke and eat chicken without me!"

Trish bit off a piece of cantaloupe and said between chews, "I get it; you're the favorite, whatever. It was stupid for them to keep that big of a secret from you about your sister, obviously. And we can't tolerate that crap. But I think you should let Austin and Ally back in. It will make this miserable 'vacation' more tolerable. Believe me. Sulking in your bedroom sucks."

Dez swallowed his apple pieces and blinked at Trish. He watched her pick through the bowl until she found another slice of cantaloupe. Her hair was pulled back neatly, and she had on her usual amount of makeup, which was never too much. Dez noticed this is the calmest Trish has looked since she's been at the Moon's.

"Why do you make sense, and why do you look happy?" Dez asked.

"One, I always make sense, Freckles. Two, Didi is okay. I was stressed out all night. It was awful." She put the bowl in his lap and added, "Three, I am far from happy. But things could be worse. The thing with Didi proves it, and I'm glad she's safe again. Now, I'm just going to lay low and coast by, like in class."

Dez chuckled and wrapped his hands around the bowl. Before Trish could react, Dez put the bowl to the side, reached across the bed, and wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

"Thanks for coming to me about Didi," Dez said, his chin resting on Trish's soft shoulder.

He squeezed her tight and tucked his nose into her sweet smelling curls. He felt her tense beneath him, so he leaned back but still held his arms around her.

"I am so sorry I didn't believe you," Dez said, gazing into her eyes. "We have to stop doing this, though. We get mad at each other, bring up the past, fight, and pretend to make up. We have to trust each other."

"I trust you," Trish murmured. She cleared her throat and said, "Besides you were the one who didn't believe me. Don't make that mistake again. Remember, we have to be on our guard and watch our own backs. The only ones we really know are ourselves."

Dez nodded and said, "Okie dokie. This is a new start for us. We're no longer Dez and Trish, bad blood neighbors from Miami Beach, but Dez and Trish, friends stuck in the middle of nowhere."

"Yeah," Trish said, "One more thing." She pushed his arms away and stood up from the bed, saying, "Do not crush on me."

"What," Dez yelped. "I do not have a crush on you."

Trish rolled her eyes and flicked her hand, saying, "You hit on me all the time, Freckles. You just hugged me right now for like twenty minutes. It's uncomfortable. Get yourself under control."

"I do not!" Dez huffed, crossing his arms and watching the girl walk out the door.

"Don't do it, Dez," Trish called over her shoulder. "And go talk to your lame friends before I choke on all of the depression in this stupid house."


	9. Chapter 9

Dez lay on the bench in the garden with his legs stretched out on the wood. The sun warmed his skin and the flowers gave off a sweet fragrance. He puckered his lips and blew hot air on the petal he had plucked from a daisy earlier. He was going for the record of longest time a person can keep a petal afloat with just his breath, a record he had made up in his boredom.

He heard grunting and the rolling of wheels on cobblestone, so he caught the petal in his palm and sat up.

"Stupid heavy dirt," Austin grumbled.

Beads of sweat dotted his forehead and his forearms were glossy with perspiration. He was trudging through the garden with a wheelbarrow loaded down with fertilizer. He stopped beside the bench and wiped his brow with the back of his garden-gloved hand.

"That looks really heavy," Dez said, standing up and inspecting the wheelbarrow.

"It is. And this isn't even where the fertilizer is supposed to go."

Dez spun around, looking at the garden. "But this is where the flowers are."

Austin nodded and said, "Yeah, so, this is the garden for the house. The real flowers are in the fields, and that's where this has to go."

Dez scratched his elbow and said, "Oh, okay. Well, if you need it, I could help."

"Yeah! Sure. That would be awesome. Here."

Austin dug into the pocket of his shorts and pulled out another pair of garden gloves. He handed them to Dez and then moved over so that Dez could lift the other handle. The guys lifted the wheelbarrow and rolled it down the cobblestone path of the garden, then the rocky path of the ranch, and then finally the dirt path of the flower fields.

"That was awful," Dez panted.

His shirt clung to him from all of the sweat and his face was a faint pink. He hunched over with his hands on his knees. Austin laughed, stretching his tone arms above his head.

"And this is just the first one."

Dez sprang up and shouted, "First one!"

Austin shook his head with a grin. "Nah, I'm just kidding. This is the only load. Now all we have to do is spread it around each row of flowers." Austin's grin faltered for a moment as he added, "That is, you know, if you still want to help me out."

Rows of pink; rows of purple; rows of yellow; rows of white spread across the green field. The combination of the green hills in the distance, the clear blue sky, and the beautiful blossoms made something inside Dez spark with new energy.

"Of course! Where do we start?"

They split the rows and met in the middle. Dez traced his finger around the petal of a flower and sighed. It felt like the smell of the soil would be trapped in his nose forever, but he thought the flowers looked so happy that he didn't mind.

"Hey, man," Austin started. He was squatting next to Dez but he kept his eyes on the plants in front of him. "I'm sorry about the stuff with your sister. I wanted to tell you. But…"

"I know."

Dez watched as Austin's shoulders slumped a little. The redhead pointed to the flower in front of him and made sure Austin's eyes followed.

"Doesn't this flower look happy?"

Austin smiled at the plant and then at Dez, saying, "You think the flower looks happy?"

"Duh! You've got to really, really look at it."

Leaning closer to the yellow flower, Austin squinted and tilted his head to the side. His eyes widened as did his smile. He excitedly patted Dez on the shoulder.

"Dude! It totally does!"

"This makes me happy. We should celebrate," Dez said, standing up.

Austin did the same and nodded. "Let's go visit the piglets again. But first let's eat lunch. I'll make pancakes."

Dez pumps his fist in the air, saying, "Dude, your pancakes are the best!"

"I know," Austin said, tossing his gloves into the wheelbarrow.

* * *

Trish stared down at the calendar she had swiped from Ally's arts and crafts room. Because the huge house wasn't used as an inn anymore, Austin and Ally converted a lot of the guest rooms into hobby rooms. Ally's music room was the biggest hobby room, but Trish was banned from it shortly after that first night she found Ally playing the piano.

_You misplace one guitar autographed by Bruno Mars and suddenly you're a bad guy? Overreact much, Ally? _Trish thought.

With the calendar on her lap, Trish sat on her bed and tapped a red marker against her chin. Big red X marks covered her first week in isolation. Technically, she still had people around her but her world was miles away. In fact, she wasn't sure what part of the country she and Dez were actually in. She sighed and flipped the pages to August. Her finger circled the bold number 15, the day her senior year of high school is supposed to begin.

_Two freaking months away! With all this stuff going on, will I even be back on the first day? I have to! It's bad enough my party reputation is going down the tubes since I'm not exactly around to party, but the first day sets the fashion precedent for the rest of the school year. _

Trish groaned and fell back against her mattress, her curls spilling across the pillow.

"I'm going to die here," Trish said to the ceiling.

"That's a little dramatic. Did you do a lot of plays at your school?"

Ally came into Trish's view as the brunette leaned over the side of the bed with her hands on her hips.

"Stressing over what you're not doing will only keep you from actually doing anything," Ally said.

"Do people just not knock anymore," Trish said, sitting up and pressing her back against the headboard.

Ally sat at the end of the bed and smiled at Trish.

"Your door is open, which I think might be a first. I think subconsciously, you're ready to join the rest of us," Ally said.

Trish didn't say anything for a moment. She pulled her hair back into a black hair-tie she kept around her wrist and avoided eye-contact with Ally.

"I starred in a few," Trish mumbled.

"What was that?"

Trish rolled her eyes but she was smiling as she said, "Plays. I starred in a few plays at my school. And I only left my door open by accident."

"Uh huh. An accident." Ally said. She picked up the calendar. "You're counting down the days until school is supposed to start for you?"

Trish's jaw dropped slightly but she cleared her throat and shrugged.

"No. I'm not."

Ally said nothing; she just raised her eyebrow and smiled at Trish.

"Fine," Trish said, sighing and dropping her shoulders. "You being right is kind of annoying."

"It'll be one of your favorite things about me," Ally joked.

"Doubt it," Trish laughed.

Ally handed Trish the calendar and said, "You need to find something that will take your mind off things. If you were back home, what would you be doing?"

"Really? This is my busiest time of year. Pool parties, beach trips…"

"And you set up those things?"

"As if I'd trust my friends to handle anything that could affect my reputation."

"Those don't sound like very good friends."

Before Ally could say anything else, Trish covered the caretaker's mouth with her hand.

"Okay, no more moral lessons for today, Ally. If me and you are going to try and get along, we have to set some boundaries," Trish said. "Agreed?"

Ally gave her a long eye roll but nodded in agreement. Trish pulled her hand away.

"I hope you washed your hands."

Trish bit her lip and said, "I may have borrowed that special hand soap from your bathroom." At Ally's look she whined, "It makes my skin feel so soft."

Ally laughed. She touched her own face, saying, "Your hands were soft." She stood from the bed and said, "Wait here."

A moment later she returned with a laptop in her hands.

"This is not for social media accounts. You and Dez have to remain off the grid. But I may have a project for you, to take your mind off things. You just have to play well with others," Ally said. "And by others, I mean Dez."

"Well I am bored," Trish said. She scooted closer to Ally and asked, "What you got?"

* * *

Dez walked down the hallway, whistling a tune he heard Ally humming earlier. He had a towel wrapped around his wet hair and his pants stuck to his legs a little because he hadn't completely dried from his shower.

He stepped into his room then pushed the door shut with the back of his damp foot.

_It's dark in here. I didn't realize how late it is, _Dez thought.

He flicked on a lamp before unwrapping his hair and tossing the towel to his bed.

_That's weird, _he thought, noticing his bed looked lumpy. His blanket was all deformed like something was beneath it. His eyes widened as the blanket began to gently rise and fall, the way something looked when it was breathing.

_Oh no! What if the bad guys found us? And he's waiting for me to get in the bed so he can take me away! If I scream, will he get me before the others can save me?_

Dez's entire body was tense. He wiggled his fingers to make sure they still worked then cautiously leaned over to grab his flashlight from his bag on the floor. He tiptoed over to the bed. Pinching the top of the blanket with his fingers, he peeled the cover back as he held the unlit flashlight over his head.

_Please be like a stray dog or something so I don't have to clonk you. I've never really hit anyone before. What would Mom think?_

At last, the lump was revealed in the lamp light and Dez felt his whole body turn to Jello. He sank to the floor, exhaling loudly, and let the flashlight roll out of his hand. He closed his eyes and listened to his heart drum against his chest.

Trish mumbled something in her sleep and snuggled deeper into the blanket. After blowing out another breath, Dez opened his eyes and stood back over the girl.

"Wake up," Dez said, shaking Trish's shoulder.

She shrugged his hand away but slowly sat up.

"What is it?" she whined, rubbing her eyes with her hand.

Dez gaped at her and gestured to the room, saying, "You're in my assigned guest room, in my assigned guest bed, drooling on my assigned guest pillow."

Trish blinked and looked around the lamp-lit bedroom. Dez's colorful assortment of pants that his dad had packed in his getaway bag were all over the floor. And his beloved camera was plugged into a wall outlet.

"Oh yeah," Trish said. She pressed her back against the headboard and pulled the blanket up to her shoulders. "I was waiting for you; you've been gone all day. Sheesh, when did you start having plans? And you never showed up, so I was like, he'll definitely be back before I go to bed, I'll just wait in his room. But Austin has the air condition blasting and it's freezing in here! I tell him to turn it on once and he has to pull something like this. Everyone knows the cold makes you sleepy. He did it on purpose. Why are you wet?"

Dez looked down at the blanket he was leaning over. Droplets of water dripped from his freshly shampooed hair.

"Sorry," he said, pulling his fingers through his hair as he sat on the edge of the bed. "Wait. You were waiting for me?" He grinned.

Trish raised her eyebrow at him and nodded slowly, dragging out the words, "Duh. I just said that."

"So you meant what you said?" He stretched his arms out and held her shoulders. "We're going to get along now?"

"Calm down, Freckles. Ally gave us a project to work on while we have to be here and I just think it'll be good practice for getting along. You know, moving past our Miami stuff for now, and starting our Wherever We Are stuff so I can have a somewhat decent summer. Now, stop touching me."

Dez lifted his hands from her shoulders and kept them in the air.

"When do we start the project?" he asked.

"Tomorrow. If you're anywhere to be found."

Dez rolled his eyes and said, "I didn't know you were looking for me. I was hanging out with Austin. We had the best time. He's amaze."

Trish smirked, saying, "So you took my advice and forgave him?"

"He promised to make sure Didi stays safe. I expect him to keep his promise," Dez said, glancing out the bedroom window. It was already dark out. "It gets so dark here. I can actually see stars from right here on the bed."

Trish turned her head and leaned forward to see out the window.

"I can't see anything," she said, leaning back but keeping her head turned in that direction.

Dez looked at Trish. Her hair was French braided into pigtails and her eyelids were still low with sleep. She pulled her knees to her chest.

"I bought three new swimsuits the day before those people blew up your house," she said, still looking away from him. "Expensive swimsuits. Designer. But now I'm wearing one of Jace's old shirts with a chocolate stain on it."

He reached his hand out to place it on her shoulder, but decided against it and patted the space next to her on the mattress instead.

"I promise you'll have a moderate to okay summer," Dez said. "And you can expect me to keep my promise."

Turning her head back to him and making eye contact, she said, "Let's see how tomorrow goes first."

Dez picked up the flashlight from the floor and said, "Well, for starters, I didn't beat you with this flashlight."

Trish lowered her eyelids more and hummed sleepily. Two seconds later her eyes widened.

"You didn't what?"

"I didn't know it was you!"

Trish flung off the blanket and got out of the bed. Dez quickly stood up.

"I call you Freckles a few times and you try and beat me in my sleep. That's so cold," Trish said, walking to the doorway.

Dez followed behind her sputtering an apology. In the doorframe, Trish stopped and smirked at Dez over her shoulder.

"Just kidding, Dez. Go to bed. We've got stuff to do tomorrow."

Dez watched her turn and walk down the hallway. He let relief wash over him for the second time that night then turned back to his room. He switched off the lamp before climbing into bed. He snuggled his cheek into the pillow and tugged the blanket up to his neck. His eyes were almost shut when a warm sensation enveloped him, the body heat his bed had held onto.

"Trish was just in my bed." He flipped over and sat up. "Trish just called me Dez."


	10. Chapter 10

Trish stood in the colorful field of blooms. A light breeze made her free-flowing curls bounce gently against her face. Her shoes made a pattern in the soft dirt as she spun slowly, taking in the scene around her. Rolling hills of green stretched into the distance and mountains peaked just out of reach of the summer sun as it rose higher into the blue afternoon sky. The smell of moist dirt and trimmed grass filled her nostrils. Little bubbles of sweat dotted her arms but each blow of the breeze cooled her skin.

Dez stood on the path that meandered through the flower fields and back to the greenhouse. He looked at the screen of his camcorder, watching Trish admire the beauty around them. She didn't smile or anything, but she had a calm look on her face that made him want to stand still and watch. He shook his head and closed the camera before walking up to her.

She didn't acknowledge him, not really realizing that he was near. She bent down and held the petals of a flower between her fingertips. A small smile began to bud on her lips as she thumbed the velvety texture. At that moment, Dez felt the corners of his own lips tugging upward and he became aware of himself and more aware of the fact that he had been staring at her in silence the entire time. He scrunched his nose at the thought of staring at her for so long.

"Who's ready to get started?" Dez shouted, clapping his hands together. "I am!" he said, raising his arm and waving it in the air.

"Don't be doofy. This is already off to a bad start," Trish said, rolling her eyes.

"Uh ah," Dez said. He pressed his finger to her lips. "We be nice now." Trish scowled but nodded her head beneath his finger. He smiled and took away his finger. "So, checkout what I've been helping Austin with." He spread out his arms in the flower field. "Pretty sweet, huh."

"It's alright," Trish said shrugging her shoulders. She picked up a bag she had brought into the field with her and pulled out Ally's laptop. "Now, down to business." She stepped around him and walked over to a patch of thick grass. She sat down and pointed to the spot beside her for Dez to sit.

"Ally's trusting me to get this floral arrangement business off the ground," Trish said.

"You?" Dez said, taking his seat beside her. "Don't you mean us?"

"No, I mean me. I'm doing all the real work. Marketing, setting up the website, making sure orders are taken correctly and payments are processed. You're just menial labor."

Dez crossed his arms and said, "Now who's off to a bad start. You're not good at this team work thing."

"I'm the best at team work, now do what I say!"

"No!" Dez stood up. "I'm going to come up with bouquets in the greenhouse by myself. You can do all the bossy boring stuff at the house."

"Fine!"

* * *

"He's the one being difficult," Trish grumbled to herself as she stomped back to the house. She entered the kitchen from the patio garden.

Ally stood shredding carrots onto a wooden cutting board at the kitchen island. Trish tried to sneak past her, but Ally called out her name without looking up from the board.

"Are you getting along with Dez?" Ally asked in that motherly authoritarian tone that made Trish stop walking.

She rotated on her heels and feigned a smile at Ally, who was still shredding.

"I'm on my way to see him right now," Trish said. "Super excited about this project."

Ally paused with a carrot in her hand and looked from beneath her brow at Trish.

"You remember our talk earlier, right?"

Trish sighed and threw her head back, saying, "Gee, yes mom. Sheesh, are you going to show me old baby photos and take me shopping for prom too?"

"You'd love if I took you shopping," Ally said, slicing through the rest of the carrot.

Trish grinned at that, folding her hands beneath her chin and leaning on the kitchen island. "Is that a possibility? I haven't been shopping in what feels like decades and I'm itching to get some summer wedges."

Ally slid the carrot shavings into a mixing bowl, saying, "You're in hiding. Go work with Dez."

Trish frowned then swiped a carrot off the counter and left out the door she came in.

* * *

Dez stood at the long table in the greenhouse. It stretched from almost one end of the greenhouse to the other and its wood surface was painted white. It was hard to see any of that white with different types of flowers, plants, and pottery scattered on top of it. The crate of ribbons and colorful lace he had carried down from the Moons' house was tipped and spilling its contents off the edge of the table. Dez stretched his long arms, holding up crinkly, clear wrapping paper. The sunlight beamed through the tinted glass, making the paper shimmer, and the fan on the dirt floor made the paper rustle.

He nodded at nothing in particular, his tongue sticking out slightly at the side of his mouth. He put the paper down then stepped to the side with his hands on his hips.

Trish walked in to see him staring down at three flowers placed in a row in front of him. She shook her head then walked around to the other side of the table. She placed her bag down on a clutter-free spot, took the laptop out of her bag, and then sat down on the bench beneath the table.

Dez looked up at the girl across from him. He opened his mouth to speak but Trish spoke before he got a chance to.

"Ally made me," she said.

He closed his mouth, shifting his eyes back down to the flowers.

The whirring of the fan, the snipping of ribbon, and the clicking of keyboard keys were the dominant sounds inside the greenhouse. Trish drafted a list of things she and Dez would need for the floral arrangement business and a checklist of things they needed to get done. More than once she had to fight the temptation to sign into her Instagram account. But the thought of impressing Ally and showing off her planning skills overrode her desire to break the rules of her caretaker. Plus there was more than enough work to do to keep her distractions at bay.

An hour into her work, she looked up to see Dez still standing in the same position, still looking down at the same three flowers.

"You're kidding me," she said.

Dez didn't budge. Trish leaned to the side and titled her head to get a better look at his eyes. They were locked on the flowers. She straightened up, frowning. His fingers tapped against his hips and one foot taped delicately against the dirt floor. The fan blew strands of his hair but he didn't move to flatten them down.

Trish leaned out of her seat and snapped her fingers up at him.

"Earth to Dez. Hello?"

He pressed his thin finger to her lips again and shushed her without looking up.

She slapped his hand away and said, "Stop doing that."

Sighing, he finally lifted his eyes from the flowers and said, "Woman, do you not understand that I'm trying to create art. I need complete focus if I'm going to get any work done."

"You've been standing there for an hour! Do you know how much work I've done? Your job isn't even difficult." She reached to the far side of the table and picked up two random flowers by their long stems. She took twine and tied the stems together. "Flowers, ribbon, done. Sell it to the highest bidder for her stupid wedding."

Dez gasped and tried to untie the flowers. "Do you really want Ally's business to fail? With this, this monstrosity!" He shook the tied flowers and spit on the ground for good measure.

Trish shook her head in her hands and plopped down on the bench, muttering, "We were wrong."

"Huh?"

She swung her legs over the bench and stood up, closing the laptop, and tucking it under her arm.

"We were wrong, Dez. It's been one day and we still can't get along. We'll never get along. We're too different. You're crazy and, well, I'm not."

She started walking toward the greenhouse door, but Dez reached out and caught her by the elbow.

"Whoa, wait," he said. "You actually sound upset about that."

She sighed and turned back to him. "I don't know. Maybe a part of me, deep, deep, deep, deep, deep…"

"The point, Trish."

"A part deep down inside wanted to do this stupid flower business with you to prove Ally wrong. To show her I could get along with you and not act so, I guess some might say 'ungrateful' for the Moons' help or whatever." She turned on her heels again and said, "But I can't."

Dez ran in front of her and spread out his arms to keep her from leaving.

"Hey," he said, dropping his arms to his side. "Don't go." He looked around the greenhouse and spotted a stool on the far side, away from the long table. "Look," he said, taking her by the shoulders and steering her toward the stool. "Sit here and work on your boring stuff."

"Dez…"

"Give me one more hour. Keep working on your side of things and in one hour come over to the table."

Trish didn't say anything, but she sat on the stool.

"That's right," Dez said. He pulled the laptop from under her arm, opened it, and placed it on her lap. He took a step back and held up one finger and said, "One hour."

"One hour," Trish repeated before clicking away at the keys and tuning out the world again.

* * *

Trish closed the laptop and placed it on the stool behind her. Closing her eyes, she stretched her arms in the air, releasing the tension in her muscles from sitting hunched over for so long. She opened her and they settled on the long table. There in the same position as before were the three flowers, but no Dez. Trish grimaced and walked over to the table.

"Why the heck did I trust that…" she started when she heard rustling ahead of her.

She looked up to see Dez stepping around a tall green plant in the corner where garden supplies were stacked in big buckets. His arms were behind his back and he had a blue ribbon tied around his head. Trish felt her fury falter when a goofy smile spread across his face, wrinkling the ribbon around his forehead, but she quickly recovered.

"You just love getting on my nerves don't you," she said.

He walked up to her and bent down on one knee, his smile not breaking once.

"You don't care about this project at all!" Trish continued to fuss.

Wordlessly, Dez pulled a bouquet from behind him and lifted it up to Trish. Her jaw dropped and words ceased to come out. Her eyes traced over the petals of the flowers in the bouquet. Each various shape of the different flowers formed a beautiful pattern that was interlaced with silky ribbon and dotted with baby's breath and greenery.

"Admit it, you'd marry the guy holding this arrangement of flowers," Dez said.

Trish broke out of her stupor and said, "Excuse me?"

"This is art," Dez said, standing up and pressing the flowers into Trish's chest. "Look at the colors," he wafted his hand over the flowers, "Smell the fragrance. Every bride will want Austin and Ally's flowers for their wedding; for their engagement parties; for their anniversaries. Everything, Trish!"

In his excitement, Dez threw his arms around her and squeezed her tight.

She quickly pushed him away and said, "Don't squish the bouquet!"

He wagged his finger at her and said, "I knew you'd like it. Now apologize."

Trish carefully placed the flowers on the table and said, "For what."

"For not trusting me."

Trish rolled her eyes then looked fondly at the flowers in front of her. She folded her arms over her chest and said, "It really is beautiful." She looked over her shoulder at him. "We'll need a name for the arrangement."

Dez's eyes didn't waver from the bouquet. His voice came out almost like a whisper as he said, "The Carrie."

Trish felt a pang of guilt and shifted uncomfortably on her heels. She nodded then went back to her stool on the other side of the greenhouse.

"Good work. Get started on the next one," she said.

* * *

Ally spread the last of the cream cheese frosting around the base of the two-layered carrot cake. She pulled back the spatula, sticking her tongue out for a quick taste, and grinned at her work. She put the spatula in the sink and inhaled deeply. Her kitchen smelled like warm cinnamon and cake batter. She heard footsteps in the hall and smiled, turning to wrap her hands beneath the glass cake stand. She moved it to the round table by the doors leading to the patio, placing it gently in the center. She turned in time to smile at her dad as he walked into the kitchen.

"Look what I made, Dad," she said, in that same tone she would use as a little kid when showing him the latest "A" she made on a test. She waved her hand at the cake and said, "It's your favorite: carrot cake with Grandma's secret-recipe frosting."

Mr. Dawson rubbed his hands together and hunched his shoulders, saying, "Oh! Cut me a big boy piece!" He quickly pulled up a seat to the table as his daughter chuckled.

She had already set out two plates, two forks, and two napkins for the two of them. She cut ridiculously big slices and plopped them onto the plates before sitting in the chair beside her dad. They clang their forks together and dug in.

"So good," Mr. Dawson sighed. Frosting hung off his lip.

Ally mimicked him and tossed her head back slightly, saying, "I just want to only eat this cake for the rest of my life."

She dipped her head forward and wiped her chin with her napkin. She looked at her father fondly. He bounced a little in his seat, enjoying each bite of cake and humming contentedly. It reminded her of when it was just the two of them in their own little house, eating cake before dinner and laughing at each other's goofy jokes.

"I'm really glad you're here, Dad. With the training, and paper work, and everything happening so fast, I feel like we don't really get to see each other anymore."

Mr. Dawson paused in his chewing and looked at his daughter.

"Ally," he began. His cellphone rang, interrupting him. He huffed. "One second, honey." He put the phone to his ear and said, "Hello? ...Oh yes, director." He wiped his face with his napkin and stood. "Yes, I briefed them," he said as he walked out of the kitchen, leaving Ally alone at the table.

Ally picked up her fork and poked at the sides of her slice of cake. When she didn't feel like waiting any longer, she put the fork down. Picking up the unfinished plates, she sat them in the sink and then wiped her hands on her flour stained apron. She inhaled the sweet smell one more time then left the kitchen.

* * *

Austin gently knocked his knuckles against the open door to Ally's music room, leaning his hip against the doorframe.

"Hey, where have you been?" he asked.

Ally sat at the piano, slowly sliding her finger back and forth across the keys. She stopped and gave him a weak smile.

"Around," she said.

She patted the space beside her on the bench. Austin walked in and sat beside her.

"Hey," she said, looking up at him.

"Hey," he said back.

She shifted her eyes back to the black and white keys. Her fingers hovered over them before landing softly against them as she began to play. Austin recognized the tune and nodded at the keys, asking for permission to join her. She scooted over to give him elbow room and he started to play along. They just sat there for a while, playing music together until Ally's weak smile grew into a full, genuine one.

"What have you been up to?" Ally asked when they finished playing.

"Eating sink cake with Dez," Austin replied.

Ally furrowed her brows and opened her mouth to ask for more details but decided against it.

Austin patted his stomach and said, "You're going to be married to a fat old man."

She poked his belly and laughed, saying, "But you'll be my fat old man."

He pouted and said, "No, you're supposed to say, 'Honey, you'll never get fat and you'll have that sweet bod forever.'"

Ally shook her head and said, "Fine. Honey, you'll never get fat."

"And…"

"And I hope you left me some sink cake," she said playfully. She took his face in her hands and kissed him.

"I love you," she said.

"I love you too."

He wrapped his arms around her back and she rested her head against his shoulder.

"I think my dad has to cut his visit short again," she said softly. "I think that's the hardest part about his job, our job. I miss him."

Austin leaned down and kissed her forehead. "How do you feel about moving heavy equipment and standing on wobbly ladders?" he asked, his lips brushing against her forehead. He felt wrinkles form in her confusion and grinned.

* * *

Only one light shone in the den as Trish stepped down the stairs in her pajamas. At the last step, she looked around the empty den and raised an eyebrow. She glanced at the large decorative clock mounted on the wall and hummed, wondering where everyone was. For the past few nights, everyone spent time in the den, messing with the television or reading a book; well, Ally reading a book.

"Okay," Trish mumbled to herself before heading to the kitchen.

Dez was standing at the fridge when Trish walked in. He was peering at a piece of stationary held to with fridge with a banana magnet.

She walked up behind him, asking, "What does it say?"

"Meet us by the shed where we keep the tractor," Dez read.

Trish rolled her eyes, saying, "We're really in the boonies, huh. They actually have a tractor?"

Dez took her hand and pulled her toward the door, saying, "Ooh, come on! It sounds like a surprise! I love surprises!"

"Wait! Let me grab some shoes!" Trish shouted, her feet sliding behind Dez on the hardwood floor.

Once they were outside, Trish had put on a light sweater she had swiped from Austin and ugly sneakers Ally had bought for Trish the last time she went to the market. She followed Dez until they reached the tractor's shed.

"Cool!" Dez exclaimed.

The shed was metal and gray and large with a slab of concrete paved in front of it. But the trees around it had been strung with white lights, glowing in the dark. Over the concrete, a colorful rug had been rolled out and standing lamps were placed on its corners. Big fluffy pillows were piled at one edge of the carpet and a projector shone rotating colorful lights against the shed.

Austin stood in front of a stool on the carpet, holding a guitar. Ally stood beside a piano that had been wheeled out to the shed. And a silver trumpet was propped on its stand.

"What's all this?" Trish asked, smiling at the pretty seen under the moonlight.

"Hey, guys. Hey, dad," Ally said, smiling as her father walked up behind Trish and Dez.

"Ally?" Mr. Dawson asked, standing between Trish and Dez.

"Want to jam, Mr. Dawson?" Austin said, picking up the trumpet and holding it out in front of him. "Ally says she gets all her talent from you."

Mr. Dawson grinned. "Maybe not all of it," he teased. He took the trumpet and stretched his fingers. "Let's see. It's been a while." He popped his lips a few times then licked them. "Okay."

He put the instrument to his lips and began to play. At first he kept his eyes open, but he gradually let them flutter shut and he swayed his body gently to the sound of the music he played. Austin took a step back and sat on the stool. He began to strum the guitar. Ally watched her dad in admiration. She sat at the piano and joined in.

Music filled the air and Dez and Trish listened. Dez couldn't keep his foot from tapping or his fingers from snapping. Trish moved over to the pillows and stretched out. She closed her eyes and listened to the music, enjoying the relaxing sound and the gentle breeze of the summer night air.

After everyone retired for the night, Ally sat with her father in the kitchen.

"I'm going to miss you, Dad."

"I'm going to miss you too. But you're the whole reason I took this job. Being on the inside of the agency is the best way I can ensure that you and Austin are safe. And that his family's legacy," Mr. Dawson waves his hand around the kitchen, "this wonderful place, is safe too."

Ally reached out and hugged her father. He held her tight and patted her back before letting her go. He drummed his fingers on the table and struggled with what he wanted to say next.

"What's wrong, Dad?"

"You know, Ally," he said, keeping his eyes cast down on the kitchen table. "If you miss your family, you could always call your mother. She would love to come and visit and…"

"No she wouldn't, Dad," Ally cut him off. He looked up at her but she held up her hand and shook her head, not wanting to hear any more about it.

Mr. Dawson zipped his fingers over his lips then held up his hands. He put them down and said, "Even though I have to go, the agency is sending someone over in the next week or so. For combat training."

"Combat training?"

Mr. Dawson nodded. "Yep. He's supposed to be top-notch too. Mixed-martial arts; taekwondo; fencing. I don't see much need for that last one, but self-defense is important for caretakers. Even for my sweet not-so-little-anymore girl."

He patted Ally's shoulder and stood up from the table.

"Goodnight, sweetie," he said.

"Goodnight, Dad."

* * *

Austin walked into the kitchen early that next morning to see Trish chugging a glass of orange juice.

"Hey, Austin," she said, putting the glass in the sink. "I need your help." She washed her hands then moved to stand in front of him.

"You're awake? On purpose? Without being dragged out of bed?" Austin said. He pressed his hands in the air like a mime stuck in a box. "Is this like some alternate dimension or something?"

"Ha ha," Trish said. She tugged on his arm and said, "Seriously, though. I need your help in the greenhouse. It's super cluttered and Dez and I need a good space to work if you want your business to be successful. Oh, and more supplies. But first we need a good work environment." She pressed her fingers around his bicep and added, "So I need these." She pulled her hand away and said, "Now, meet me at the greenhouse in fifteen minutes."

Austin saluted her and said, "Sir, yes sir!"

She pointed her finger at him and said, "I will hurt you."

He smoothed his hand over his hair and rocked on his heels, saying, "Fifteen minutes. Got it." He raised his eyebrow and asked, "But why don't you just have Dez help you?"

"Because I asked you," Trish said, patting him on the shoulder with a smile. She walked toward the door and added, "Plus I want it to be a surprise." She looked over her shoulder and said quickly, "But only to prove to him that I'm a better worker than he is."

Austin smirked but she just squinted at him and turned away, walking out of the kitchen.


	11. Chapter 11

Trish and Austin worked relentlessly, mostly Austin hauling heavy things out of the way while Trish told him where to put new things, through the morning. By early afternoon, the greenhouse was up to Trish's standards. White crates were stacked neatly against the back wall with plastic tubs in pastel colors inside them as drawers for crafting supplies. Vines with flowers along their spines, twisted and warped around birdcages that were hung high. Small tables, some round, some square, were set up around the greenhouse. On each, flowers were sorted for easy access when making arrangements. Spools of ribbon were lined neatly on a rod along the back edge of the long table in a rainbow of colors. Old tin cans and clay pots were cleaned and placed on the table to hold supplies. A stool was placed on either side of the table; Trish made sure both were fixed with a cushion, so Dez could have his pick of either side.

In the corner, a shorter wooden table and an old wooden rocking chair made up Trish's "office." A desk calendar was spread out and covered in animal print doodles she had done the night before, after Ally slid it under her door. There was also a small fan placed on the corner of her new desk.

She had Austin paint on a wooden plank "The Workshop" and he propped it up against the outside of the greenhouse. Austin tried to hang some wind chimes he thought Dez would like, but Trish said no and insisted it would give her a headache. When everything was finished, they took a step back and looked at their handiwork.

"I'm amazing," they said simultaneously.

He turned to look down at her as she turned to look up at him. Both of them shrugged and said, "You're okay, too."

Austin's face broke into a smile first and Trish joined him in laughter, casually nudging him with her elbow. He pat his stomach and took a final look at the workshop before he said, "Come on. I'll make us some pancakes."

He turned on his heels and Trish followed him, glancing over her shoulder one more time.

* * *

Dez didn't feel like getting out of bed. His long legs were stretched to the corners of his mattress and his blanket was half on him and half splayed on the floor. Sunlight had long peaked in through his curtains but his mind was still stuck in last night: he dreamed of Carrie. He was chasing her through a green field where chocolate pudding cups sprouted from green stocks planted in the ground. A chocolate mustache framed her laughing pink lips as she gazed at him over her shoulder. Her blonde hair danced wildly in the wind. He reached out for her in his sleep and swiped his hand to catch the back of the knitted sweater that hung loosely on her shoulders. His fingertips brushed past the yarn and he felt his arm fall, the action shocking him out of his sleep. He had been staring at the ceiling ever since.

He pressed his face into his palms and groaned, wondering why he let his mind wander to her yesterday while he created that bouquet. He flipped to his side and tucked his knees to his chest, keeping his hands over his face, like the questions were outside of him and he could keep them away. _Why couldn't Carrie be my friend? What could Trish have possibly told Piper to make her take her sister away? Are high school caste-systems really that cliché? Will chocolate pudding ever not taste good?_

He flipped over again, stuffing his head into his pillow, and let out a long sigh. It still hurt. The school year had ended. He was miles away from home. But it still hurt. In his mind, Carrie was still a pretty butterfly filled with everything happy and good and he never got a chance to flutter away with her. He lifted his arms over his head and wrapped his thumbs together, waving his fingers at the sides as if to fly away.

_She liked all the things I liked. Laughed at all the things I laughed at._

He dropped his arms down and pushed himself upward. He leaned back so that he sat on the balls of his feet with his knees pressed into the bed. He sighed again. His shoulders sagged. Outside of his door he could hear someone walking down the hall. The happy humming and light steps let him know it was Ally. He felt a smile start up on the inside but it didn't reach his face yet.

_But I do have friends. Austin and Ally. Someone that likes things that I like. And he shows me things I never knew I liked, like painting fences bright yellow. Someone that laughs at things I laugh at. Even if sometimes I'm laughing at her, like when she gets her hand stuck in the pickle jar._

The memory made him laugh. Ally's nose wrinkled and her lips pinched together as she wildly waved the jar around. He laughed so hard until he tipped over the side of the bed and hit the floor with his arms wrapped around his sides.

"Dez! Are you okay?" He heard Ally call.

He held back his giggles and shouted that he was fine. He exhaled and wiped the tears from the corner of his eye.

_But it could have been something different with Carrie._

He felt his face heat up as he thought of things like holding a hand that doesn't belong to a relative or pressing his lips to a mouth softer than his own. He shut his eyes tight, wishing he hadn't watched so many romance movies with his parents or read so many girly books with his sister. Another part of him was glad he did; it was another memory to hold on to while he was separated from them. But then he thought of Carrie again and how it was crappy and sad that she was the closest he had ever gotten to having a girlfriend.

He opened his eyes and leaned his head back against the bed, voicing his thoughts, "Today is going to suck."

* * *

Trish paced back and forth in the greenhouse. Every time she walked by the fan, it would lift strands of her hair and she would automatically smooth it back down. She would stop across from the door, bite her lip, and stare off into the field every three or so minutes, looking for a mop of red hair.

"This is stupid," she muttered to herself. She closed her eyes and threw her head back. "I need a social life. My brain is turning to mush!" She walked over to her new desk space and pulled out Ally's laptop.

"Just work until he gets here," she said to herself.

An hour into her work, she heard heavy footsteps plod against the dirt floor. Her back was to the entrance but she lifted her head from the laptop and smiled at the wall in front of her. She felt her ears perk up, anticipating Dez's excited squeals.

But she heard nothing.

She folded her hands in her lap and tucked her chin toward her chest. Slowly, she let her curls fall to one side to hide the grin on her face as she looked carefully over her shoulder. She was sure Dez was standing in the center of the room speechless, possibly on the verge of tears. But she felt disappointment weigh her shoulders down as she saw Dez sitting on the stool at the long table. He was wordlessly tying polka-dotted ribbon around an amber-tinted mason jar.

She gripped the edge of her rocking chair and studied him. His movements were controlled, no long arms flailing about as he yanked ribbon or head bobbing to music only he could hear. She turned back in her seat and stared at her laptop.

"Nothing?" she mouthed.

She took a deep breath and tried to calm the anger she felt building in her chest. Anger for him not noticing. Anger that she cared.

* * *

Trish stomped into the kitchen and yanked open a cabinet. She pulled out a loaf of bread and slammed the bag on the counter as Ally walked in.

"What'd the bread do to you this time?" Ally asked jokingly.

Trish shoved her hand into the bag, grabbing two slices. "It's fine. I'm fine," she said through her teeth.

Ally nodded casually, humming a little. She walked behind Trish, opened another cabinet, and took down a jar of peanut butter.

"Usually, 'It's fine. I'm fine' is code for 'I'm angry. Give me a hug,'" Ally said. She placed the jar beside Trish's bread. "But I'm not sure if you're the hugging type." She opened a drawer and took out a thin knife. "So I'll make you a sandwich."

Trish drummed her fingers on the countertop and twisted her hips slightly, and said, "I like a lot of peanut butter."

"Who doesn't?" Ally spread the chunky peanut butter on a slice of bread. "So, are you taking this snack back to the workshop?"

Trish crossed arms and leaned them on the counter. Ally raised one eyebrow.

"No snack for Dez?"

"Balls no. And why? It's not like he'd notice it if I shoved it in his stupid, mopey face," Trish grumbled.

"Ah," Ally said. "That's what this is about." Ally slid the plate with the sandwich cut into triangles over to Trish.

"There is no this and there's nothing about it," Trish said, picking up the plate.

"He didn't say what an awesome job you and Austin did?"

Trish put the plate back down on the counter, saying, "Even you noticed and it wasn't even for you!" She ran her fingers through her curls. "I mean, obviously it's for you and Austin, for the flower business…"

"But a little bit for Dez?" Ally offered. She could see Trish's eyebrows furrow and the inhale of breath the girl took to fuel her argument against that but Ally spoke first. "As a gesture to being a good business partner, of course."

Trish rolled her eyes but swallowed back her protest. Ally reached out. Trish's shoulder tensed under her touch, but it relaxed with her next words.

"You did awesome, Trish. I can't wait to see the success you'll have with my business."

There was something akin to pride in Ally's voice and once again Trish got a mom-vibe from her caretaker.

"I am pretty awesome," Trish said, leaning an arm on the counter and flicking some curls over her shoulder.

Ally chuckled and mimicked Trish's action, flicking her own hair. "You are."

The action drew Trish's attention to Ally's tight ponytail. She looked her over and asked, "Why are you dressed like that?"

Ally wore purple workout leggings, a loose fitting tank with a yellow sports bra showing beneath, and yellow running sneakers. She pushed away from the counter and stuck out one leg to show off her outfit.

"It's my training outfit." At Trish's look, Ally continued. "Someone from the agency's coming to show Austin and I some self-defense maneuvers."

"You took out a crazy lady with a stick in the middle of the forest. You seem trained up to me," Trish said, taking a bite of her sandwich.

Ally looked down bashfully. "I'm sure I could use a more sophisticated technique."

Austin walked in and threw an arm around each of the girls.

"Hello, shortest people in the house," he teased.

Ally lifted his arm from her shoulder and grinned up at him.

"The first move I'm asking for is how to flip you, tall person," Ally said.

"The trainer's got to show up first," he said, leaning forward and bopping her on the nose.

"Gross," Trish said and slipped from under his arm.

Austin smiled down at her and asked, "I bet Dez flipped when he saw the workshop, right?"

Ally bit her lip and smacked her husband's abdomen with the back of her hand while Trish grimaced at him.

"And now I'm in a bad mood again. Thanks," Trish said. She snatched her plate off the counter and left the kitchen.

Austin frowned and wrapped his arm around Ally's shoulders again.

"I'm thinking no," he said.

"No." She leaned her head into his chest and looked up at him. "I wish I could fix it."

"I'll fix it," Austin said, shrugging.

Ally raised an eyebrow and leaned back from him. "You'll fix it?"

He bounced his shoulders. "Yeah. I'll go talk to Dez…You stay in those purple pants."

She leaned into him and grinned. "You like the purple pants?"

"Oh, I like the purple pants," he said, going in for a kiss. He felt her fingers pressed to his lips and he sighed. "I have to talk to him first?"

"Yep," Ally said, popping the P at the end. "I and my purple pants will be waiting."

* * *

Sunlight poured into the greenhouse as Dez snapped pictures of The Carrie bouquet. The click of the camera and the hum of the fan were the soundtrack to his work as he took pictures at different angles. He didn't notice Austin when he walked in.

Austin didn't notice The Carrie. He admired the inside of the greenhouse, proud of the work he and Trish had done. He wandered over to a small metal cart with two bouquets. One had flowers in shades of peach and cream; the other was dark reds and greens. He picked them up and nodded before placing them back down.

He looked up in time to see Dez move, no longer blocking the view of the photographed bouquet.

"Whoa, Dez! That's super pretty."

"Pretty?" Dez sputtered. He let the camera hang around his neck and Austin recognized it as the one he had let Dez borrow a few days ago.

"It. Is. Extraordinary," Dez said, poking Austin in the chest with each word.

"I feel like that should hurt," Austin said, patting his chest.

"I didn't want to a full force poke, cause we're buddies," Dez said, nudging Austin's arm with his elbow.

Austin eyed the bouquet. "So, 'The Carrie,' huh? I thought you two weren't friends anymore or something."

Dez fidgeted with the camera and kept his eyes on the dirt floor.

Austin continued, "Maybe it doesn't help to think about her that way. You know, while you're creating pretty…"

Dez raised his eyebrows.

"…I mean extraordinary wedding bouquets."

Dez stepped around Austin and snapped photos of the bouquet again.

"I disagree. Emotion inspires art," Dez said tightly.

Austin stood between Dez and the bouquet. He put his hand up to the camera and slowly lowered it down until Dez would look at him.

"Maybe now, in a new place, with new people, you can allow yourself some new emotions," Austin said.

"Can I?" Dez asked, barely above a whisper.

Austin reached out and gripped his shoulder. He shook it a little and whispered back, "Yes."

Both guys smiled and Dez patted Austin's hand on his shoulder.

"You, my friend, are an awesome caretaker," Dez said.

Austin lifted his hand and shrugged his shoulders, putting his hands in his pockets. "I just do what I can for the purple pants."

"Huh?"

"Dez, look around," Austin said, waving his hand around the workshop. "Notice some new."

His blue-eyed gaze hit every section of the room. He pointed up at the birdcages, squealed at the tables of flowers, ooh'd and awed at the crates.

"You did all this for me! Wow! I didn't even…wow! I was wondering why everything seemed so handy and in place today!"

Dez held his arms out for a hug. "Bring it in, pal."

"I'm not going to turn down a hug." Austin hugged Dez then let him go. "But this was Trish too. It was her idea."

Dez glanced at Trish's little desk with the calendar. He walked over to the rocking chair and tilted it back. He thought back to when she was in the workshop earlier. He hadn't even said hello.

"Oh no," he said, putting his hand to his mouth then letting it drop. "What a jerk." He dragged his feet over to the stool in front of his long table and flopped down. He wiggled his bottom against the cushion. "She added a booty cushion! I'm a total jerk!"

"It's okay, Dez," Austin said. "Trish will totally forgive you if she knows you just weren't in the right head space."

"She's going to be mad," Dez said.

"Oh, yeah," Austin said, patting his shoulder. "But I've heard hugs help."

"Or punishment," Dez mumbled.

"Maybe sleep with one eye open," Austin joked.

* * *

Dez frowned down at the container of laundry detergent in his hand. The room smelled like lemon and boxes of dryer sheets with pictures of clothes lines on them. This was his least favorite room in the large house. He put the container on top of the washer and leaned his back against it, sighing.

In the hall outside the door, he saw something pink fall to the ground. He stood up straight. A body leaned forward to pick up the item. Dez's face lit up as dark curls tried to escape a messy bun.

"There you are!" he shouted. "I wanted to say how awesome the workshop looks!"

Trish, with a basket full of dirty clothes in hand, stepped into the room. She held back a smile but the corners of her lips twitched. "You weren't even looking for me. You're in here."

Dez crossed his arms and sat on the folding table, his legs barely off the ground.

"Only cause Ally won't do my laundry," he pouted.

Trish plopped her basket beside him and said, "You're a big boy. You can do your own laundry." She pushed the basket with one hand so it pressed against his thigh. "And mine?" she said as she flashed him a smile.

He frowned down at the basket and hopped down, standing in front of her.

"Punishment?" he asked.

"You know it." She smirked and added, "Even though it's no surprise that I'm kicking your butt at this teamwork thing."

"Fine. It can't be often when you not the jer—"

Trish raised both eyebrows at him. Her eyes darkened and he took a step back.

"Did I mention the workshop looks amaze? Come get your hug."

"Put your arms down."

"Okay."

He turned to the basket and started sifting through it.

"Do you like your lights and darks separated or…" He stopped when his hand picked up something lacy. He opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out.

Unfazed, Trish plucked the bra out of his hand and eyed the stain on the blue material. "Make sure you hand wash this, okay. It cost a lot and it's the only cute one I have with me."

She tossed it back over to him and he clumsily caught it by the cup. She looked at him. A blush was creeping up to his ears and he's eyes wouldn't meet hers. The fashionista in her wanted to comment on how the blue in his eyes paired well with the blue in her bra, but she wrinkled her nose at the thought and focused back at a cherry red Dez. She rolled her eyes and put a hand on her hip.

"You have a mom and a sister, Dez. Surely you've washed a bra before."

"It's just…" he gulped and said softly, "Still warm…" His eyes flickered to her chest before his brain could send the signal not to look. He shook his head and looked at the tiled floor, but it was too late: she saw.

"Thanks for making it weird," she mumbled and snatched the bra back. "Yeah, we're not ready for this level of friendship."

He lifted his shinning eyes, face still tinged pink, but putting away his embarrassment for a moment, he smiled and said, "We're friends."

"Not this good of friends," Trish joked, lifting the bra in her hand.

Dez avoided eye-contact again. Trish rocked uncomfortably on her feet. She made a mental note that Dez was not the kind of guy she usually joked with in her circle of friends.

_Dez is in my circle of friends? _She thought. _Well, here it's a pretty small circle. Is he still blushing? How far down the food chain was Dez? Did I really mess things up for him that much at school?_

Now she felt awkward.

"I'm just gonna…"

"I've got work…"

"Bye," Trish said, picking up her basket and walking out.

"Bye-bye," Dez said.


End file.
